Where I'm At Blues

I am still bored.
All the information I could ever need,
At my fingertips' pleasure, the click of a mouse:
I have news instantaneous and banjo instructions,
The dreams of the bloggers and Obama's old words,
The crystalline plumage of the global chandalier,
Reflecting the terrors and hopes of a hundred lost nations
Who can't vocalize freedom as well as we can
And I am still bored.

I have nothing to say.
It has all been said before
- or so we've been told -
By Jesus, Socrates, Aristotle, and Bush
And they said it to everybody already,
To Romans, Greeks, Americans, Sherpas, kinghts and the like.
We keep the gems in mind but we will circulate the trash
Over and over and over and over, again and again.
Our words are like air, our actions are birds,
None in the face of the cosmetic sky.
We roam deserts of ignorance so thirsty for knowledge
But we drink water because it tastes better on the tongue.
All the while our boats sink, people die, poetry tries to be new,
The sun rises and sometimes all is well -
There is family, friends, good food and hope for the future.
But the sun closes too and we're left destitute,
Learning life is hard and it's hard to earn.
We repeat quiet beatitudes in the dark,
Solemn praise for riotous earth,
Untempered reason in the reign of chaos' son,
And I have nothing to say.

I have nothing to do.
In this free range office world laced with liquor breath
The insensitivity that made Charlemagne conquer nations
Lives in our souls still but we label it insanity
And force-gulp sedation down our throats to our hearts
Where it will never return except as indigestion.
But unsedated are the seas that pummel earth
With danger unspeakable and fear yet unquenched!
Winds howl at twilight, they drone out the monster's song
That carries night's veil over the strange land of men.
Volcanoes beg for sword fights where destiny has no say:
The border towns live! The cleaver is their gavel,
Outlaws storm the backwoods, justice is dead,
The hurricanes come in gangs too strong to count on,
And the battles against forgetting continues.
I can barely find a reason to cope
And I have nothing to do.

Life avoids me.
Or maybe I'm avoiding it,
With my tickets unpurchased, friends uncalled,
My lawn chair opened and set firm on the sidewalk
Watching the parade of time passing by.
The internet could guide me away! No. It can't.
I am stuck in the casm of home life despair
Where the wax museum tapestry begs me to join
The television succubi that give no guy no chance
In faithful allegiance to the zombie screen stare
And I can't do that; I just can't.
Too afraid to act, too afraid to not,
I pledge nothing to life and so nothing to death.
This is no time for safety or reason,
We are wallflowers with fascistic hearts -
A day's gift is promise of another,
A day's curse is so many have gone by.
I can't help but to think I avoid life.

07/09