While musing over the fourth book of the Words of the Seasons series (while I should be working on the third releasing first this summer) I can sit and reflect and be grateful for the ability to still complain. To still have time to complain, to sit, to muse, to wonder, to reflect, to decide to change, to have the opportunity to change, to decide not to change, to be an asshole if I wanted to, or to keep “livin’ the dream” in the most American way. I am only lacking the white picket fence in my yard after all.
The End-etic is either a short piece or a soon-to-be long piece. What I share here is the first raw draft of my word vomit onto the keyboard displayed so simply across a white screen. I get to do so without worry of a bomb landing on my house. Without worry that I will have to evacuate my home town. I mean I have the normal white blissed fears of my children getting gunned down in school, or wrecking their car someday being dumb, or working till they are old and grey just to pay off a debt of education sooooo fine. Red, white, and blue “fine”.
Anyway. It’s End-etic. Not necessarily a poetic ending. Just a nice big red flag above the call for mental health, for babies in war killing for reasons they don’t know, for you, for me, and the ironic touch that this is what we consider HUMANITY. It is the End-etic, tail end of the pandemic (oh look, I the poet left a clever rhyme). I plan to blog more as I update this piece. Don’t fall too in love with it, or hate it too much as I imagine, like viral state we humans live in, it is in its newbie format, searching for its niche, its calling, its point-etic. It will evolve and change with the algorithm of the year. May be a completely different piece by the time publication comes around (maybe December).
But I am privileged to be able to sit in my comfy spot on the couch and share it with you. I hope you check in now and then for its evolution. I wish everyone human on this planet could feel that same comfort, but this is the human race, and it’s always at war isn’t it? How fucking grateful I should be that the war I live in is only in my head, only on paper, only on a screen…
“This healing and recovery and bettering yourself scheme
Only works if you know how to do it
Winging-it is the plan of attack
Make sure you’re trending while you do it
I don’t know about you but it seems
Everyone is broken or breaking someone else
This healing oneself is a nice tale they sold me
They told me
They used it to hold me still
Used it well now I take a white pill
This healing and recovery and bettering yourself bullshit
Only works well if you can see it’s hashtag and tag it
Guess work and research stops at viral suggestions
I don’t know about you but I thought we knew better
We do know better
We just don’t do better
I don’t know what the point was
The thought lasted longer than the seven second
Clip on Tik Tok
Lost your attention
After stanza one
Did you heal yourself before you got to the End
Will we heal the Earth before her End
What of ourselves in humanities End
Can you heal yourself before your End”
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