the ramblings of a self-professed postmodern existentialist christian mystic
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Was digging through all the crap (still) in the foyer...
And I found this poem that I'd written back in 1997. Perhaps the first poem that took me away from the "devotional" poetry I'd written throughout college... Hmmm...
Anyway, I thought I'd share.
Swooning beneath the weight of Utopia Two girls threw themselves from the overpass last night. The paper had nothing to say Of their goals, the desperations, their drives, Only that one was an honor student And that they both died before the ambulance arrived. The older girl died instantly, Crashing her sacrificial form through The windshield of a man driving to visit his parents.
They were minors, so They must remain nameless, faceless (More palatable for the delicate Tastes of the civilized world), A pair of everywomen, no-women.
We are the dirt of this island called humanity; Each one's death should diminish us, we know, But it is only dirt, we tell ourselves, And there's more than enough of that to go around. Besides, there's a happy story About a clown and a hospital On the next page.
n. husband, father, friend, writer, comic book writer/editor/letterer, coffee nut/barista, cat fanatic, musician/songwriter, web designer, self-professed postmodern existentialist christian mystic, vanity incarnate;
v. to possess entirely too much self-confidence