paradox

Once a guy said, “Make it good,
I have needs, fix it.”
He was referring to me.
 
Once a guy said, “It is good,
for a comedian to laugh at self.”
He was referring to me.
 
Once a guy said, “That was good,
eloquent, honest and true.”
He was referring to me.
 
I live in this paradox of old and new
Of old feelings invading new thoughts
Of ancient beliefs violating new ways
Of senile emotions plundering new freedom
Of decrepit perceptions pillaging new life
 
At a time when society is dumbed by media-ocrity
At a time when bureaucracy is short-sightedly obtuse
At this time, in this paradox, I am asked for more.
 
I, cast as Limbkins, more is not forthcoming.
With icicles running through
Arterioles and the deep palmar arch,
I say no, in my head.
But my heart and hands:
They are doing and being
Something completely different.
Chordae tendineae tugging
As only heart strings can.
Pulling me on
Striving for more.
 
Can this paradox be something new
Vibrantly creative
Inventive without
Regurgitating yet another wheel
Leave unproductive ways
Fruitless and impotent
On the side of this new path.
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