My “Such a Dope” Poem

There’s a place inside of me where all the answers dwell.

A place untouched by reasoned thought, in lieu of this mind of Mel.

It clarifies simplicity and sets the record straight. That I am my own maker, it is I who can create.

To quell the froth of babble in my head that is on top, and listen to the beat of reason from the fizz of my soda pop.

Everything so simple, made hard to bear with fear. Fear of thine own uncertainty, I drench these thoughts with beer.

I turn off the fizz and lay awake.

Thoughts arise I cannot shake.

Drama and fiction juice up my drive.

I stew in the remnants of all I contrive.

I must work, I must rub. Another old man with chub. I set goals, answer calls, buy socks at shopping malls. I’m okay, I still breathe – I stay afloat on my knee’s. I beg you to pardon my

old baggy jeans.

I get up, I go out

Into town I loll about.

Squawking and squabbling like a dunderhead clout.

I chip away what’s most dear, my soul inside with the answers so clear.

I chisel away, no time to chastise. The last ounce escapes, leaving me with big goofy doll eyes.

It is gone, the last shimmering wisp. A Gust of wind taken it up and set it adrift.

Now I am free to a life of certainty. I can control all fears with actions derived

from the mundane human interference of controlling the tides.

Go to school, go to work

Massage the next jerk

Go home, wash the sheets

Listen to how serenely my heart does NOT leap

I lay in bed so dead

Stare at the tv screen

No new thought in my head

No need for beer when life is so stable

No need for questions as long as my body is able

To get up another day, wash the sheets, dry my hair

Done all unblinking, done all without care

I’m back in my bed

Emptiness abounds

I wonder what’s gone,

Then I hear a rapping, a tapping of sounds.

Coming from my window, I get up

Lift the blinds

Outside I see it, my soul beckons, it shines

“I need this after all, I can’t deny she’s not here. She stands quietly gazing, this beauty of light without fear.”

I take her up in my arms and swallow her whole. She squirms in my stomach –

it’s hard to digest,

my soul.

I keep her in place, letting her out while I write. I repress her during most of the day and during the night. I condense and compress, keeping her squished good and tight

into a mighty ball of fury, but she does not fight.

It’s been months and it’s been days to densen and contract, she grows heavy and sits as a pit wanting me to extract.

“Calm down in there, your day will soon come. Stop wiggling so much, you weigh a ton.”

She flattens my lungs, crushes my heart

Something starts piercing through all my vital parts.

My spleen gets punctured, my stomach rup-tured

“Why did I swallow you again? You’re more of a curse than my zen.”

My soul stirs and awakens – her fizz fuzzing my nose, “You suffered enough, can’t you see? I’m all that you were and will EVER be. You kept me here so long in your womb, you nurtured me with creative knowing but this incubator is really a tomb! I am your prize for at the end and for the start. Now push me out of your damned-up hymen, I am you – your polished star, I’m your diamond.”

“But how do I do it? Won’t it hurt to try? I never gave birth. I don’t want to cry.”

“But that’s just what you’re doing while keeping me here. You cry out in pain but your only reason is vain. You choose to weaken, to play out your fears – to live by circumstance AND consume beers.”

It’s late at night as I lay here fighting sleep. Seven massages tomorrow steal my soul to weep. It’s almost done, this Groupon uncharted. I lost count of redeems, reason for my soul

departed.

My wavy scoliosis back, bloodshot eyes – like on crack. Frayed work attire,

shoe’s that are mired.

I lay here and blink what little is left

Of my golden diamond light that I can mirror back.

I bequeath these last words

Words of great hope

Why did I sell 606 massages? I am such a dope.