Sh!
SHH!
Stanley wrote a poem
and I’ve got to hear it.
It’s his first
so it’s his best
so far
and I want to enjoy it
as much as I can
even though
Stanley’s a novice
and even though
he’s kinda dumb.
I am optimistic
that Stanley’s gonna
knock it out of the park.
We don’t know.
At this moment
anything is possible
and I choose to live in hope
of what Stan can do.
So sh.
Sh, already!
Take a listen
and let’s hear
what Stanley has to say.
There is nothing more to be said.
We’re done
all business completed
all ideas exhausted.
We are finished here
and I’m sorry
that you didn’t see it earlier
because the signs were not hard to see
but if you need me to tell you forthright
spell it out
bold letters blinking
dozens of feet high
allow me to do so
now.
We have finalized everything.
It’s over.
We’re done.
We’re quits.
Later!
John Milton,
blind and ignorant,
sold the rights to Paradise Lost
for ten pounds
but that was back at a time
when ten pounds
really meant something.
Consider:
One of the greatest works
in English
– and thus
one of the greatest works
in the world –
was taken from its creator
for such a pittance.
Milton wasn’t even black.
It is a horrible fate for any artist
and an evil act from any publisher
and can make anyone almost glad
to hear that print is dead.
It does not have to be like this.
We don’t have to face each other down
behind tank sites
protected
seeking out
only new weaknesses.
We can escape our armor
and stare at each other
naked, unafraid.
We can work towards greater goals
and no longer look for ways to hurt.
Just come out of your shield
lower you guns
and see what a kinder
gentler world
can be –
gotcha!
You fell for that?
Sucker.
I don’t hate you
I’m not angry
and this isn’t a fight.
There is no argument for us to have.
We’re good.
The wars are over
the peace is at hand.
You don’t have to fight this
or anything else.
The ugly days have passed
and it’s smooth sailing
from now on.
Just…
just don’t pick at it.
That’s how we got into it the first time
and the fourth
and the twenty fourth.
Don’t look for trouble
where there is none.
Just…
just let it go.
There’s no fight to be had
It’s all good
unless
you keep trying
to figure out what isn’t wrong.
Don’t look at me that way:
expectant
hopeful.
This is not the place for that.
I cannot endorse your optimism
any longer.
I seek the safety of cynicism,
the support I gain
from never needing to try.
Your asking me to be or do something else
even silently
will not stand.
I cannot allow it.
Keep away
with your positivity.
I prefer something stronger
and I shall keep it.
If you think you can do it,
you’ve got a lot of nerve.
If you think the glass is half full,
you’re an idiot.
If you have faith in a better day,
then move back to Roosevelt Island,
where all things are good and kind and just.
We have no place for you here
on the mainland
which may also be an island,
but still.
If you think
there was a point to this,
you have another think coming.
Thanks.
Honorable mention to the pavement
in front of my building growing up
where my father dug my initials
the day I was born.
Honorable mention to the dog
that ran freely with me
getting hit by a careless car in my neighborhood,
yelping, then shrugging it off
and continuing his race
which I won.
Honorable mention to the cat
that the same leashless dog killed
in a different occasion
further proving that maybe
leashes are a pretty good idea.
Honorable mention to that freckle faced girl in third grade
who got my motor running
in a way
that made no prepubescent sense.
Honorable mention to you
for listening so patiently
with no clear reason.
This one
went out to you.
Thanks again.
May you receive all
that you deserve
and maintain the kindness
that makes you deserve it.
May you have the will
to remain as good
as you are.
May you rock harder
and better
than you ever have before
this year
and every one after.
Smugly you look upon others
and do not believe their fates
could be yours.
Easily, you could become them.
Chance abounds.
Every day is a race against death
against failure
poverty and homelessness.
There is an edge upon which we all live
and we are close to tipping
– closer than you’d think.
There would be less chance,
less risk of slipping,
if we all remained aware
of these fickle fates
and did what we could
to help each other up.
We would be better
if we were better
to each other.
jonberger 