nihilistic

i don't think poems are very
productive.
writing one would be extremely
stupid
and a complete waste of my time.
funny
how people never understand things.

poems are so
inane.
i don't think i'm ever going to write one.
metrical
or not, they're just utterly
pointless.
poems are for people who don't know how to communicate.
abstract
thinkers, they call them.

i just think they're
crazy.

happiness

i am a successful person.
i am rich and powerful, high and mighty, strong and invincible.
i have only experienced the real world in indirect media like the radio and the internet.
i have not smelled any flowers
i have not tasted authentic mexican food from the restaurant down the street.
i own my own website that generates billions of hits per day.
i have not felt grass between my toes.
i have not heard the gentle rustle of leaves in the fall.
i have not seen a thing outside.

am i happy?

maybe.

i have fallen in love.

tell me now:
i am happy.

trust

how have you come to trust me so easily?
what did i do to deserve this trust?
absolutely nothing.
thanks for trusting me with your deep dark secrets
and your tall tales
and your melancholy melodrama
because i know you trust me.

why do you trust me?
i don’t even trust myself, you know.
i am so insecure.
i am ashamed of myself for letting you trust me.

i need to re-evaluate things
because right now
we’re throwing trust around like a frisbee
catch it here
throw it there
and i end up dropping it
and losing all the points i was trying to make.

don’t trust me.

death

life ends so abruptly, as is often the case
it’s glamorized by the sex and the drugs and the parties
until we end up on our own death beds
cursing and regretting every bit we did and haven’t done.
some people are not so lucky.
“untimely” and “accident” do not make up the person’s life
though it may be the only thing remembered.
some people do it themselves
because they feel that they can do it
and not realize their profound impact on people around them.
some accept it so.
some cannot and cling to all that is materialistic and earthbound.
some believe in souls and heaven
some know they’re going straight to hell.

the only thing i know for sure
is that i will die
i don’t know how, i don’t know when, i don’t know why
i don’t want to know
but it is for certain
i will die.
that is the only thing i know.

silence

sometimes i wish i could just choke it
and the tension will be all over when i do
more often though i feel it necessary
to say nothing at all: just look at you
and everyone as we converse in our own little worlds
of gestures and professions of faith and love
and justice and what is right and holier than thou
and we realize that we have silence
stronger than actions and louder than words
no need to speak, all the reason to feel
it never wants to end, it seems
it makes us think of things we never have before
makes us see the things we took for granted before
makes us cry and laugh and frighten our own selves as before
such power has silence
as i wonder if you’re thinking the same thing i am
and we spontaneously and coincidentally do the same thing
we thank the silence that transpired.