Get ready for a new decade
And the same old shit repackaged.
What use is a writer
In a society that no longer values literacy?
I’m a new relic of a world that could be.
Self-loathing & sadness are so boring.
I’ve seen it all before.
Now I see what truly matters
And its not money, not drugs, not booze, not sex.
Love on a razor blade.
A thin pair of transparent stockings & summer dress,
Voluptuous curves & self-harm scars with a striptease.
Who cares about fact, history & truth?
They died with the decade.
I saw a bald eagle plummet from the sky
Slowly dying in a toxic swamp as scavengers circle.
Lydian ideals.
Daydream Nation spin.
Dexedrine & gold cosmonaut pills.
Whipped cream canisters & balloons.
I can count my real friends on one hand.
I am a junkie, a liar & thief.
Jack of all trades, master of none.
Master of His Fate.
Existentialist poet that sold his soul
And his freedom
To be free of anxiety & feel no pain.
University dropout prone to self-sabotage.
Yet I would not change my past,
It is part of what defines me.
Up all night again seeking truths
In wine, in Canadian whiskey & white lines.
The only thing that really makes sense in this world
Is the Night Blooming Flower.
They are right to be jealous.
How does one explain the inexplicable
To people that only see in three dimensions?
Its like trying to explain William Blake to a welder
That only reads instruction manuals.
Macluhan. Medium is the message,
If you get your news from TV you’ve already lost half the info,
Cut out to save time for adds & sitcoms.
Technology moved beyond me ten years ago
When I was just nineteen.
The system has a fatal flaw:
It destroys anything not of itself.
Tens of thousands of OD’s & suicides.
Self driving cars, “smart” phones, predictive text.
The West is a dystopian mix of Huxley & Orwell
With a dash of Phillip K. Dick,
The rest of the world starves & goes to war.
We are dying from epidemic obesity
And “mentally ill” white supremacist mass shooters
Looking for their footnote in history.
To spread the legacy of their perceived failures as men.
The right is united while the left is splintered into factions
Feminists that hate trans people. People that think they’re fictional characters.
Callout social media culture that drives people to madness.
Politically correct speech & thought has replaced
Racial & gender equality, food, shelter, harm reduction & medical care for all.
Internet squabbles over pronouns are more important to some than protesting police brutality.
I don’t trust the New Left & never trusted the right.
I would vote for The Birthday Party over any of these fools,
If Rowland S. Howard were still alive.
There are no great musicians, poets or writers from this generation
So I will become one.
Surreal, drug fuelled poetry & dissonance.
Not part of any subculture.
“Too weird for punk.”
Make your own way, create a subculture instead of joining one.
Now almost 30, supposed to settle down,
Get a place & a regular 9-5 job, marry someone
Fuck & spawn things more wretched than me.
This world doesn’t need any more lonely people
Its overpopulated by them.
Walking around like cracked glass mirrors
That show our lost former selves.
Before the booze, the babies, the addictions & ODs.
The fucked up relationships & mindless comments
That unintentionally slip through the barriers around my mind
And fester in some dark corner until my demons return & retake control
When it will announce itself like blood announces a cut.
I’m damned & drowning in this sea of lost souls too
But for better or worse I can’t help but try
To pull them to safety, even as the weight drags us under
Into the Great Abyss of mental illness
Like an emotional deep sea trench
And the only light is bioluminescent
From the strange beings of the most alien parts of earth.
I’m seeking more than just to survive chained to multiple medications.
This decade I want to thrive, create, fulfill my deep desires, become more than who I am.
Its an uphill battle but worth it. I’ve stories to tell, stories,
Memories are all we really have.
So happy fucking new years to whoever reads this crap.
Klonopin, THC, CBD, CBN, suboxone & a sleepless night
Are catching up to me. Words & thoughts blur together as I nod out over this poem.
-Jack Blare, 2020
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