JB - Hello Poetry

JB Mar 2015

It's 1:45 AM

I'll write a poem for you. I don't know what it's about.

Maybe it's about something that happened to me recently.
Maybe it's a reflection on a weird habit I need to change
Like taking an eight-hour nap after work (why?)

Or maybe it's just to fill in the blanks of my mind
That I know will end up being used in a little bit
For "Computer Love"

Kraftwerk released it in 1981.
Before **** sites and YouTube videos of girls kissing.
Coldplay used the same melody for a 2005 song, "Talk".
(Class it up, Chris Martin.)

Now my little observation is done.
And I can make a rendezvous with the Internet
A data date.

#internet #coldplay #kraftwerk

Mar 2015

Bo Burnham

On Poets and Farts

Why do poets always talk about the ocean's waves,
about their single file march to shore,
and yet never talk about my grandmother's farts,
which arrive in time, one after the other, with equal
regularity?

Are these poets too holy to comment on anything
less than nature's flashiest gestures?
Are we going to spend another millenia searching
for meaning in sunsets and waterfalls?

Or will we finally turn our ear to Grammy's ****
and away from all that pretty stuff,
and hear that foul, muted trumpet sing,
marking the end of an era?

#funny #farts

JB Mar 2015

Meltdown

****.

Why do I always end up doing this when I get frustrated? The dude doesn't do his work, I know, but it's not fair.

I can't talk to anyone. I don't want to talk to anyone.

It's not that bad! It's not that bad! Yes, I know! Please stop telling me so.

The logic, the fact, is immovable, but the emotion comes tumbling down
like an avalanche, gathering momentum and pace.

The thoughts race, anger, despair, sadness, hatred, hopelessness, worry, confusion, terror!

Jesus ******* Christ, I have to get the hell out of here! I'm gonna go postal if I don't!

I finish my task at hand and head straight to the men's bathroom, lock the door, and sit on the toilet and cry.

Breathe in, breathe out, Breathe in, breathe out ******* this! **** it all!

****, I have to call Mom.

I take out my cellphone and find her number and call her.

Ring....Ring......This is [redacted] at [redacted] speaking.
"Hi, can I speak to [redacted mother's name], please?"
Yes, hold on.....she's in report right now, can I take a message or is it urgent?
"Yeah, it's a-an emergency. This is her son, Joshua." I chuckle nervously.
Okay, Joshua, I'll grab her for you........Hello?
"Hey, mom." I sob.
What's up, baby?
"I'm ******* losing it, Mom. All this **** is happening, and I'm feeling suicidal again, I'm having a ******* meltdown, I just--I don't know if I can do it."
sigh....Well, do you want to check yourself into the hospital?
"I don't think I can face it. I never get the help I need at the hospital."
I know, I know...Okay, I can't talk right now, Josh, but look, call me in half an hour, okay? Promise me you'll call me, okay?
"Okay."
Okay. I love you. I gotta go.
"Okay. I love you too. I'm sorry, Mom."
It's okay, call me in half an hour, alright? I love you.
click
I keep the phone to my ear for a second, processing the conversation. Then I turn it off and put it back in my pants pocket.
I get up and wash water on my face. My beard is growing. I dry off my face with the paper towels, and I take a deep breath. Then I go back outside.

Out into the world, which I must face, or die.

#depression #anxietyattack #meltdown

Mar 2015

Bo Burnham

Our Father

Our father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name,
hollow be thy promises
and shallow be thy shame.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
On a scale of one to ten,
our Lord is totally eleven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
toasted close to dawn,
and forgive us our trespasses
as we shoot those who trespass on our lawn,
and lead us not into temptation,
such as *** or *****,
but deliver us from evil
(if not delivery, then DiGiorno).

#religion #funny #satire