Monday, 13 July 2026

This Poem Lacks Any Purpose Or Point

Just the other day,

I was minding my own business,

when a stranger walked up to me,

and vehemently insisted on a conversation.


The more they spoke,

the more I wanted 

to slam their head on the wall,

but crimson stains on white walls,

are rather hard to paint over,

unless you call them polka dots

that lost their geometry

somewhere between

violence and interior decoration.


I know this, mostly from lived experience.


So I chose to confront them.

Never a good idea, I tell you.


Apparently it's offensive

if you aren't as much of a dumbfuck

as they are;

apparently that's what they are calling a democracy, these days.


They informed me,

they were uncomfortable in the conversation,

and yet somehow,

couldn't bring all the strength in their bones,

to move a muscle.

Apparently, a morbidly obese vanity does that to you.


Unfortunately, I wasn't unemployed at the time,

I still am not,

but, context matters I've been told.

So, because I had work to do,

people to meet,

and a life that refused to wait for their approval,

I decided to leave, 

while desperately hoping

the previous thirty minutes

could be buried somewhere

between virtual reality and neurological injury.


And just as I was about to reach for the door, 

they stopped me.

They told me,

how important they were.

How accomplished.

How rare.

How they were the continuity of a mutiny.

How they were the missing punctuation in humanity's unfinished sentence.

How they were what would change the world.


I grinned with an oblique lip,

looked them dead in the eye,

and said,

"That's a whole lot of adjectives to decorate biodegradable waste."


I know you are convinced I'm an asshole, 

with a pronounced fetish for violence, 

and you're absolutely correct in your conclusion. 


But remember this, 

had it not been for violence, 

you'd be dead from small pox, 

and lunch for the ones you pick off a dinner buffet.


But the questions in your concise cerebrum don't stop, 

you wonder,

how dare I compare a human to a fucking mosquito, 

or a goat, a cow, a pig, 

depending on which one appeases the idiosyncrasies

of the ones you bend your spine to, 

without getting money for it, that is?


Well, you discriminate by species, 

I discriminate by utility. 


And claiming superiority by association,

how dare you, I ask. 

Who do you think you are, 

some godman in a land that mistakes fear for faith?


Honestly, we've had too many of them,

and I have always had a kink for subtraction.


And now you're confused, 

as to when did this become 

about the things you've been taught

to not debate nor question, 

because idiocy is best served, 

when accountability is a missing father.


And now you're confused, 

how did this begin with me, 

and become about you? 

Because, 

you are synonymous with the antonym:

how something about someone

becomes all about you, 

all thanks to you!


This isn't a screenplay 

you are used to auditioning for.


In fact, right about now, 

you're questioning

why you didn't realise

the precise moment the story flipped.


But then, isn't that the story of your life anyway?


No, this whole charade doesn't have a point.

In case you were still wondering.

In fact it was never meant to have any reason or logic.

I just arranged random words in a manner

co-ordinated enough 

to confuse the fuck out

of your perception of language, 

while mimicking the very same manner, 

in which every shred of faith

was hammered into your marrows.


Thankfully for you, 

I don't have a lot of faith

in faith. 

Else, you'd have traded yours today.

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