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.