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Hank Desroches Mar 2013
This is all we have for you.
Live now.
Nothing is waiting.
There is no reward for living with restraint.

                    So don’t.

                                        Do what you love.

                                               ­                                                                 ­        Play jazz.
                                                        ­                        Change the world.
                                                      ­                                                                 ­ Fall in love.
                                                        ­                                                                F­all out of love.
                                                        ­                        Change the world again.
                                                      ­                                                                 ­ Dream.
                                                     ­                                               Forget where you were going,
                                                        ­                                                                R­emember.
                                                     ­                                               Change your mind.
                                                        ­                                            Go anywhere else.
                                                        ­    Make someone smile.

                                        Drive nowhere.

                                        Do it fast.
I love you.
Hank Desroches Mar 2013
is inherited from the Latin
and the Greek
and ultimately an ancient Iranian root --
          pairi daêza.

In theory, paradise is a religious term. By that definition, paradise is a place in which existence is positive, harmonious and timeless. It is conceptually a counter-image of the miseries of human civilization; in paradise, there is only peace, prosperity, and happiness.
It’s absurd, though, how we provide ourselves with such a convenient idea, a carrot for all mankind to share in our relentless drive towards death. It’s absurd that we must rely on such nonsensical ideals to inspire us to adhere to literal, arbitrarily-dictated morals. “Thou shalt not do things we say you probably shouldn’t.
Except sometimes.”
“Actually, whenever, as long as you feel bad about it and spend a moment kneeling quietly and thinking something along the lines of ‘So, like, sorry -- my bad. It won’t happen again, unless it does.’”
The fundamental mistake here is attempting to delineate the existence of Man with an old book and relentless propaganda and childhood indoctrination and threats of post-mortem punishment, but more on topic -- why can’t one just live the right way without this kind of artificial motivation? It’s a juvenile concept that we’ve taken much too far. It marginalizes the human race -- “listen, Man, if you eat all your broccoli, then you can have dessert.” But what happens in this situation, when the dessert isn’t real?
What I mean to say is that maybe you should eat your broccoli because it’s healthy, and because, besides what society has attempted to instill in you, it might actually be tasty if you give it a chance.
Live for now. Care about people now. Because you don’t get anything afterwards; however cynical it may be, dessert is just a cold grave or a flame designed for whole incineration of your being. Paradise is now.
It's technically prose, I understand, but read it like it's poetry :) You'll enjoy it more maybe.
Hank Desroches Mar 2013
part of the issue is that people spend so much time
          trying to quantify paradise;
                    trying to delineate
                              what exactly it would look like,
                                        and what the air would taste like.

that’s not necessarily plausible.

the imaginations of men
          are acquiescent to their

                              as a species,
                    we form opinions based on
          societal designs that stress a need
for instant judgement.

we’re contained in
          an age of information and instance;
                    an age that has rendered
                    and reflection archaisms --
tasks delegated to philosophers
          and poets
                    and writers for literary magazines,
                              and other ‘nonessential’ social functions.

“nonessential” because of a permanent,
          entirely pervasive air
                    of cynicality
                    and ignorance
          that has descended upon us
as a species.

I digress;
people decide
          what they delight in, and
          what they detest;
                    what they revere, or
what they repudiate,
                              based on quick decisions
                                        and first impressions.

                                        this is paradise

                                                            and there is nothing else to see

                                                                                          seen it all?
Hank Desroches Sep 2012
A dear friend inspired me to write again. Because I have to know everything that everyone else knows. I’ve actually stared at those two sentences for six minutes. I don’t know what else to say. I have nothing else to say. I miss that depth of emotion that she has that I used to pretend to have. Depression has this interesting way of making me interesting to myself. Sometimes. I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I have to assume that some sort of ad infinitum theorem will eventually make me make sense. I don’t know enough words, maybe -- maybe that’s why I can’t get it out. Or sentence structures. Or maybe I’m not asking the right questions. What do I do?

I don’t like bringing my head down, but I don’t like being dry. How come the emptier I am inside, the more full each page becomes. I’m so intimidated by an empty page now -- but I’ve remembered how to care for people. Is simplicity preferable to complexity in this instance? Is it worth being less introspective; to be open?

I’m out of answers for questions that don’t necessarily need them. Why does her poetry make me feel like that’s not the right thing?
Hank Desroches May 2012
Could you talk yourself into romance?
Would that be bad?
Hank Desroches May 2012
Where do you go
You got
No where else?
Hank Desroches May 2012
I think I saw you once, sitting silent on the swings;
Your pervasive empty made the cold that February morning sting;
The chains were dormant, and you had nothing to say.
I wanted only to give you something to care for, to make the chains sway.

I couldn’t approach, I had been frozen to the pavement.
I wasn’t used to this sort of Romantic sort of enslavement;
I think maybe I stared too long, waiting for some part of a smile.
But if I could ever get my feet up, it’d be worthwhile.

I wrestled quietly with ice that held me down to the gray --
I didn’t want to escape so quickly, didn’t want to scare you away.
You started to stand, and in my direction glanced askance;
I promise I could swing with you if you just gave me a chance.
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