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  • I keep having the same daydreams

    October 15, 2020
    Poetry

    Misunderstanding the future
    forgo your disbelief in the possibility of eating the pie
    Do not tempt her with any farthing-like sensibility
    Get over yourself, you confused soul.

    Authenticity is the only thing that sells anymore
    There’s not even a market for picking a side
    Convince me I’m right to sell me more shoes
    For every shoe you sell, one goes to a fish in need

    Video games are the eternal resonances of realities’ mirrors
    Assuring us that control isn’t the only thing that separates us from animals

    Light a journal on fire and its ideas exist in the air where they’ve been the whole time
    in the air with the rest of the Internet

    My ears are far too big and no one listens to me

    Turtles dreaming about exploring the desert in a good pair of slacks
    Wandering pre-determined paths like a wizard who burns his dirty laundry with magic.

    Cauldrons boil over when you ignore their feelings
    but when watched closely evade even the slightest resemblance of domestication.

    A hornet isn’t yellow with black stripes, its a yellow wolf in black sheep’s clothing.

    Uselessness assumes that utility is a feature of experience
    when experience is a feature of utility.

    Anything greater than humanity is bound to treat your plans
    like a rooster regarding the theory of relativity.

  • Incarcerated in a question mark

    August 25, 2020
    Playlists, Poetry

    Cover your corrupt voice from other’s mouths
    Define your only friend
    Miss your missed opportunities
    Ambiguous loss

    Infinite heirarchy
    nuance and explicit
    Context and immediate concern
    I am unhappy with who you’ve grown into

    Divorce your inequities
    Thumb your anxiety
    Blacken your markets
    Sacrilegious security

    Sell your many faces
    Eat your peace
    Rent your feet
    Inauspicious bootstraps

    Consider spite in the crow’s feet of your death mask
    Be silent for the unnamed graves next to your own
    Incarcerated in a question mark
    You apes in gilded cages, sing

    some are obsessed with being a hypocrite since others cannot bear to be called ignorant, incarcerated in a question mark, I am an agoraphobic ape on a blue dot.
  • Lady Lazarus Takes a Walk

    December 3, 2016
    Lyrics

    Sylvia Plath does Wislawa Szymborska’s “Lazarus Takes a Walk”

    Lady Lazarus Takes a Walk

    The poet has died three times now.
    After the first death, she was taught to die as an artist does.
    After the second,  she learned how to pare her eye pits.
    After the third, they even taught her to write,
    Propped up by a sturdy Holocaust metaphor:
    Let’s take a little walk, shall we, Miss?

    The peanut-crunching crowd shoves in to see her following the accident
    and yet – will wonders never cease – she’s come so far:
    grave cave, skin skull, Jew Nazi, hurt write

    One year in every ten, madam?
    Nein, says the poet
    At least she bleeds
    for it was three

    Hurt, mud, sit, seashell
    But at the garden’s edge, that old cat
    neither gold nor bloody
    chased away nine times now
    Her Herr Doktor, Or so she scrawls – who knows.

    She wants to go to Him. Another miracle.
    What a shame. She was so close that time.

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the end.
All poetry and playlists by Jake. The other stuff is other people.