With the passing of another auspicious celebration of a relatively successful genocide, I’m left puzzling over what is likely the true crux of Thanksgiving… does anyone actually LIKE turkey? Truthfully it seems merely the natural byproduct of the manufacturing process for stuffing and gravy. Not so dissimilar to the resultant sludge from a nuclear generator. Tell me I’m wrong! There is a reason this foul fowl is one of the leanest mammalian protein sources. It’s pretty mediocre tasting. The fish of poultry! Don’t get me wrong here, I eat all of those things, but not because they’re delicious, just healthy.
Wow, the histrionics of the preceding diatribe is such that I believe Andy Rooney would have been proud. And isn’t that what we’re striving for, after all? I once watched him open a can of mixed nuts, separate and count them. Calculate the percentages and outraged, protest they very slightly deviated from the canister’s description. The king of the grouchy old men, admonishing squirrels in heaven now.
Today’s piece was written a few weeks ago during an episode of momentary dissatisfaction. The poem really drives it out of proportion but it’s fun as a visual for/ of the truly broken. Probably “fun” isn’t the right word but you know what I mean.
Cloudy with a Chance of Defeat Squalls, September 24, 2018.
A tortured soul is rarely whole
The notion seeming rather droll
How long could you resist the pain
Of ceaseless burning acid rain
Focused on your brittle essence
Independent any prescience
There are no equations to solve
No formula beyond resolve
Continue fighting through the pain
And see agony slowly wain
Not only can you halt the tear
Rebuild the parts no longer there.
Granted not every problem can be satisfactorily solved under our current technological and/ or medical constraints. But the menu of solutions is wonderfully comprehensive otherwise. Particularly on an individual level- global child hunger is considerably more difficult to solve as opposed to Karen’s Glandular Disorder. I don’t know why KGD, warranted “proper noun” status but alas, it has.
I’ll confess to using the acid rain visual previously but who isn’t turned on by acid rain? Intellectually or poetically, I mean.
All of that said, I’m a big proponent of soul repair. Unless you’re Humpty Dumpty there is probably someone or something out there that can put back together at least some of your pieces. Just try to fit some of the bigger chunks back together. Maybe there will be an opportunity for detail work at some later time. Broken isn’t finished. Not without your explicit consent.
Be the strange you want to see in the World.
A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.