MADE FOR YOU AND ME 2: hive Being (Stanzas 2017—part 42)
Let's workshop this stanza sequence exotic massage parlors, God, addiction, homicide, tattoos, beards, eastern versus western philosophy, hockey, boredom, hurricanes, Chinese takeout, magic mushrooms
scent of the day: Giorgio for Men, by Giorgio Beverly Hills (a competently reformulated retro masculine fragrance of musky sandalwood and barbershop talcum full of subtle spices like cinnamon and patchouli over a mossy bed of vanillic honeycomb)
jonesing shivers so bad he cannot even keep the lighter lit to heal himself the adulting girlfriend speaks his full name, attempting to sever him from youth talking someone into talk you out of something tattooed eyebrows and tattooed eyeliner its intricacies distract us from its horror only a false and mentally-abusive religion would call a mere desire “impermissible” techniques so advanced, timing so jazzy, to play the tape around just any old person his ultimate challenge: channeling his energy to greatness surpassing his own buying a bath brush with an extra-long handle when your partner dies prying open the spiderweb can, rust specks flake from the rim into the paint the impact of unreturned affection on our self-worth forgetting where you put what you hid while you were high afraid the fears of others will transfer onto you Chinese-takeout calendar—Hunan Joy—as your real calendar did he sense this might be the last time he would change that lightbulb? that (once adaptive?) instinct to hurt—frighten—the child who shows no fear a lone item of corporate trash in a desolate landscape the urge to fling cats off buildings is up there, but not as high as simply spitting belief in an infallible God does not make you infallible toes kept warm under a thigh on a Sunday sofa catching her eyes in the mirror a beard can be a veiled veil dumpster-sifting all day depressed by their success, in fear they will go away only guests ill-suited to the party, at least one at this stratum, thank the help afraid you will never give your best to anything on edge, waiting for someone to laugh at the cripple preternatural fears unearthed by mushrooms Ginsberg’s “die when you die”—cat-person tao: eastern; cyclical acceptance Thomas’s “rage against the dying of the light”—dog-person tao: western; anal control garbage strikes the dinner blessing that goes on to everyone’s frustration God bless her: forcing an upbeat attitude, asking everyone questions and even going above and beyond to highlight—or more accurately, bullshit—resonances between their curt (snappy) replies, all so the host does not think this is a bad party getting an exotic scalp massage from someone you do not know, let alone care for, does not have you feeling lonelier afterwards—and so, presumably, the same lady milking the cum out of you with her Kegel-controlled yoga pussy need not either third-trimester and still breaking into homes, he shot “the bitch”—right in the gut—from the same place, truly, that has a farmer put down his suffering dog wanting to be cured of cancer was one case where having something was more enjoyable than merely wanting to have it that flimsy life-raft, more so a child’s pool toy, would have taught him to swim with the best early on—if he did not keep lunging for another the entertainment aspect of his craft (poetry) he put on the back burner almost to the degree NHL hockey players or even chess players did elderhood in a sense has gone extinct now that we no longer seek after the elderly for their wisdom and companionship acknowledging the shame of your endeavor as a way to stick with the endeavor: “Hide your self-help book,” says the self-help book humans are groomed, as any life from natural selection would be, conservative: not only do we find surprises good only if when peppered against predictability, we try to make them predictable thereafter (to incorporate them into the routine) contempt for the audience clear, if not to human intuition, than to the empiricism of those splattered for the third time by the clearing of his spit valve at least the hate dividing us united us— not just abstractly in the hate but in the camp “making demons of nonmembers” those tales passed down in various niches (boarding schools, boot camps, AA groups) to highlight how much easier the current cohort has it even if our role is to be on the outskirts like Rafiki blindness is necessary to allow us to play our part in the grand concert without freezing in stage fright no longer able to tell herself with any shred of persuasion that she can quit; no longer able to hope, even while high, that one day she have strength to quit; no longer able even to hate the drug all the more because of all that socially unacceptable paths, although a form of slow death, led us out of the trees one inebriation to another to evade the cosmic truth: that no answer can fully satisfy shrubs deserted in the IBM vacuum collect wrappers and carboard and coffee cups a “God” who prioritizes belief in Him over good deeds is a false god, if not a demon does all that shoveling in of noodles and rice testify to the chopstick’s inferiority? if quitting the addiction did not render you insane, you did not quit to save your life carefully curated digital identities lost in the noise of billions might the laughter at our pathetic lunges at significance prove our significance? clothes wet enough to show her true shape technology amplifying base instinct as if the power rested in the statue too freakish to be the patron saint of the freaks the oddness of human speech swamped by storm the boredom displayed by a child highlights the grand absurdity trite as the image is especially among drug-rehab types (the same exact stencil for it in the option booklets of tattoo parlors across the country), the two recent intakes felt their having the same marijuana-leaf leg tattoo was a sign of astral connection if only what has not been groomed into being is real, nothing about any being is real— except the core: the very isness of what is organic panhandler conventions under night overpasses sharing the latest ideological trends to hijack on placards: “Lost job for being they/them instead of THEIR he/him” so many great works of art would have never been if, instead of falling into addiction, their makers matured enough to accept that some people will never like you no matter what—especially no matter what you achieve that point where self-deception starts not only failing to soothe, but also to freak us out his teachers, veterans when it came to students with his last name, were preconditioned to see him as another unfortunate case of special-ed material even after killing him, she did not see—having found new partners in various cellmates—that the cell door stood closer to herself than would make sense for killing anyone aside from herself
This is a portion of an ongoing mosaic poem called Made for You and Me. This portion is from the first installment: hive Being (Stanzas 2016-2020). More specifically, it is from the 2017 portion of that five-part work.
This compilation of fragmented musings and observations draws upon various aspects of contemporary life, touching on the human condition, societal values, and the often absurd or grotesque ways we confront mortality, identity, and interpersonal relationships. Each vignette, while brief, offers a glimpse into a range of experiences, from addiction and self-destruction to social and existential commentary. The poems move between personal and collective reflections, revealing the complexities of human psychology, the tensions between societal expectations, and the inner workings of individuals who struggle with the realities of existence.
The recurring motif of addiction, both in its literal and metaphorical forms, is one of the central themes of the piece. Addiction is not limited to substances but extends to self-perception, identity formation, and the ways we navigate societal roles. Lines such as "no longer able to tell herself with any shred of persuasion that she can quit" illustrate the overwhelming sense of inevitability in the face of addiction's grip. There is also a clear critique of societal norms and institutions, as seen in references to "self-help books" and "curated digital identities," pointing to the artificiality and performance required to maintain a semblance of order in chaotic lives.
The use of humor and irony throughout the text serves as a coping mechanism, a way to mitigate the harshness of the observations made. For instance, the line about "organic panhandler conventions under night overpasses" reflects a satirical take on identity politics and societal shifts in discourse around gender and social justice. Similarly, the commentary on religion and belief, such as the claim that a "God who prioritizes belief over good deeds is a false god," underlines the inherent contradictions in certain theological or ideological stances. The poems oscillate between bleak existential truths and moments of dark humor, reflecting a nuanced understanding of both despair and resilience.
Themes of isolation and connection also pervade the work. The desire for belonging, whether in familial relationships, romantic partnerships, or within societal constructs, is palpable. Yet, the poems frequently reveal the fragility and failure of these connections, emphasizing the alienation that accompanies modern life. The “boredom displayed by a child,” or the laughter at "pathetic lunges at significance," points to an overarching sense of disillusionment and the search for meaning in a world that offers no easy answers.
Ultimately, this compilation of insights reflects on the contradictions and complexities of human experience. It exposes the insecurities, addictions, and absurdities of life, while also acknowledging the yearning for connection, meaning, and significance. In its fragmented and often disjointed form, the text mirrors the disarray of the lives it portrays, leaving the reader with a sense of both unease and recognition.
addiction, societal norms, alienation, existentialism, identity formation, human condition, satire, dark humor, religion, self-deception, modern life, isolation, interpersonal relationships, addiction recovery, societal critique.