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FEBRUARY  2015

 

 
 
 

You Don't Know Pressure Until

It fills a space too large and too real to comprehend.
Too important to work on, perfect and obsess over,
It takes up more room than you can occupy, coat,
Hat and tools. Computer louder than you can think.
A negative the size of a ping pong table, its darkness
Spread out like a map of evil that reaches for peace.
A trigger mechanism that ends the very world you
Would ever want to live, prosper and multiply in.
You donít know pressure until itís your job to make
It more evil than it already is, and perfect its round,
Cone shaped perfection, in secret, in fear and awe.
Itís only a picture from which reality it is produced
But for this moment you alone confront the beast,
A lifetime of knowhow, the confidence to correct it,
No way of stopping it without going to jail forever.  


I can only tell you this much, how I feel a rise of ire
When people think that I canít handle the simpler
Things of life, the personal solutions, the tiny irks
That only start to drive you crazy because you donít
Explain things like this to ordinary people, they will
Never believe you, because it is easier for them to
Dismiss a wild haired kook who makes jokes about
Stuff that the 99.99 percent never even have a clue.
As Mr. Kurtz says in Heart of Darkness, itís almost
A relief to die than do what you are ordered to do.
Report to a street corner to be shot for not doing it,
Or worse, telling the world everything you know.
 




Whacked Earth

 

 
© Jimmy Warner, 2015
 

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