“Of This, Let Me Be Specific”

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“Of This, Let Me Be Specific”

 

To all those enabled in the world

Of this, let me be specific

 

 

Empathy has a limit

 

There are more black holes here on earth,

Than in all the galaxies that exist

The tendency toward evolution

Has been overcome with a genetic self-centered mutation

That replicates inordinately in the direction of self-fulfilling prophecy

Your tears are not the only tears that have ever existed

Although, they might feel unique

They are not

Michael Stipe sang “Everybody Hurts”

And he was goddamned terrifically right

But, that doesn’t mean that the energy required of paying that attention

Falls within the purview of others

Sadly, the trend seems to be that people want you to recognize their pain

And if you don’t, well, they’ll remind you that you are a sub-par human,

And that they would like for you to take another look

Both today, and tomorrow

 

Give it a fucking rest

You’re draining the life from me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I Am a Selfish Person”

 

“Self-feed” © C.P. Hickey 2020

 

“I Am a Selfish Person”

 

I am a selfish person

A certain self-assertion

The world rolls out before my eyes

I am the center of it all

Fault me not

Such facts perceived

Somewhere deep inside of me

 

How else would I see things?

 

I am a selfish person

Most certain of this assertion

The world is built of self-told lies

The universal point of it all

Faults forgot

Most facts recede

In the darkest depth of me

 

How else could I see things?

“Boxing Day”

“Tannenbaum Delight” ©️ C.P. Hickey 2019

“Boxing Day”

 

Presents unwrapped,

Feasts consumed.

Less crazy life,

Re-resumed.

 

Christmas comes,

But once a year.

Family, friends,

And magic air.

 

Boxes stacked,

cardboard fold.

Carols sung,

New and old.

 

Stockings away,

Elves at work.

Santa’s list,

Renewed rebirth.

 

Of all the times,

I hold most dear.

This joyous, wondrous,

Time of year

 

SUMMERTIME RHYMES- # 53 – “Canopies”

“Canopies” ©️C.P. Hickey 2019

“Canopies”

When looking towards the horizon,

I see treetops of green cotton and broccoli.

Avocado stalks shooting up into the sky.

Lush pathways and summer leaves,

Blowing fluidly on stolen vernal breezes.

Soon, the landscape will undergo magnificent metamorphosis.

The air, crisp again and accelerating toward frost.

Leaves yellowing, browning, redding, oranging,

Falling down.

Canopies laid bare by winds of change.

But, for now,

Greenways on and on.


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