This first part was written to me
as an initial response . . .
Opiates
how anticlimactic
pumping through my system
a patch and a pill sooth me
and pull me away
but instead
it was more of the same only dull
back from the land of similarity
coming into a landing on terra cognita
full of the known sorrow
and the requisite longing of joy
my response . . .
check your backpack
at the door of perception
leave your hiking boots in plain sight . .
resting from themselves
walk the walk that has no past
you are not becoming a guide
for a sold-out self-tour
this is not the land
of pity and disappointment
there will be no postcards
to dash off to close friends
this land does not feature
sorrow’s valley
nor does it explore
the joys of lofty peaks
instead invite yourself
into the engine think room
you know the editors,
the reporters, and the shtick
they gab, they all have a beat
. . . on you and as you
but whom do they work for?
(this is as bleak about OZ
as can be)
here in the projection room
and the wee pity-me is in charge
“gees, who hired that wimp as me?”
is your response
She/he is on the cell phone
in a sober serious manner
tap that call
and who’d she/he be talking with?
She/he must be really pissed,
yakking a mile a minute
shit, it’s her.
Miss emotional persuasion of all time
well, not really,
but all of your time for sure
you were born Siamese sort of,
the other being? that’s her
the surgery was claimed successful
she supposedly died
during the separation operation
Ah, but we’ve come to know better
she miraculously survived
under a cloak and whisper
as the grand dame
of emotional self splendor
not every one
has one of these phantoms built in
obviously you didn’t get the manual
or notice all the features
that came with her
remember, your life became . . .
really her life in absentia
she lived through you,
kind of as you
but not for you,
well for you, for her, really
she has mega watt perception
and fantasy override
and options of projection,
and a soft deliberate sell,
and whispers truths of indulgence
kind of as the fantasy-answer to desire
(oh and terra cognita maybe hers also)
but, of course,
you have come to know that
all of that, first hand
you and she
made a great working couple
inside you
hey, we all got closet!
so here we are, post OZ discovery,
more you, than ever before
but atrophy is everywhere
as anger a blazing
she is of course much older
and sort of hag
with a mouth that pitches
and preaches bleak concrete
your way for you are the operative,
you are a big disappointment
you, as the stalwart,
deed doer, front man
have falling on hard times
as her functionary
she wants you up right now
no excuses just deliver,
time’s a wasting, otherwise
wow, you must feel
like the phone piece in her hand
yelling the we-pity at you
in the projection room
that was supposedly you!
Maybe to a cocoon of you
but right now,
You are becoming un-mummy-fied
right before her/your eyes
well, right before your eyes
that have no lids
right beyond the obvious
that sees behind your circumstance
which you is the real you? You ask?
you, the compassion
of examiners coming forth
or you, betwixt and bewildered
but alone
well, maybe neither
in the metamorphosis beyond now
but, as self-stories go,
yours is transgressing into . . .
A. mapping the baron land of aloneness
B. it’s all mine as the prison of me
C. you have got to be kidding, for real?
D. I feel a song coming on
E. I am the musical behind the me-players
F. Okay . . . all of the above !!!!!??
as you now say
you have choices
and prerogatives too . . .
so where are you going with this?
(are these the breakdowns,
breakthroughs, bygones,
and bad times?)
just asking! . . . . .
remember, it’s like A.M. radio
that you can’t turn off
it’s all you! (all of the time!)
I mean, all the time!
What better opiate is there
then that?
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