The oath to mediocrity

Why is my life so inconsequential
that 2000 dollars is the difference between life
altering change
and being stuck

That something good can be so consistently tainted
by old things
that cling to me
with mechanical will

Every year the things I wanted
seem dimmer
and further away
frustrating me
with their unreachable coyness
causing my hands to shake


I shake
because
I hate what I am forced to be
the most meaningless tooth
in the most meaningless cog

part of a machine i thought i would latch onto for a while
only to find that i had become stuck
by a shoelace
and now i'm being dragged behind
the choices
which at the time seemed so small
now bound to them
like an oath
to mediocrity

A pledge to un-success

I wish i could go back in time
and focus myself
reorient my priorities

less on relationships
and self deprecation
more on becoming something

though
those things which caused me to fret
6 years ago

have hardly left me.

I see my generation crumbling
under the weight of their dreams
not achieving the lofty ambitions set before us
since we were young
feeling the bleakness
I believe
only a true lost generation can feel

and trust me
we are a lost generation
never living up to our potential
never making our mark

Forced to fill in the gaps
caused by recession
and sometimes
slipping through them

Like a half a cup of water
like a few grains of sand
drawn by gravity
to unremarkable
end

Separation from ambition, pure expression

I feel
Shackled and at the same time
I feel like a figure with
arms stretched wide
albatross
free

Free from the expectations of those who dont know
jailed by those who do

I feel
like a box which rejects no content
free to mix
and collude
together in color
SOUP

I feel like a thousand fire crackers
burning hot
and booming
that perfect blend of light and sound
all around startling

Lingering as a black mark

I want all art to be
merely a black mark
of some beautiful reaction

The soot from energy and feeling
and new neural pathways
being forged

A pioneer of the mind
Free from the religion of
solidity
of reassurance
of tradition
of piety

Like Sampson
crumbling the pillars
with his chained arms
is the final act
of a creative mind

Beautiful
and Godly

Like the big bang
Like anti matter
Like a coral reef