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hudson-everettPoems
you ever feel like we’re too connected? like everything is so crowded and jammed up that we don’t notice each other the little things, the stop to smell the roses moments pass us by and we are rushing from here to there to and fro ants in an ant farm squished unknowingly up against the glass the sun glares down like a hungry beast we scurry into our holes and hideouts communicating in ones and zeros but always missing the point we seek meaning and passion and excitement but complain we have no courage our lives move and move like rafts on the Mississippi But I had better things to do than read Huck Finn hours of mindless entertainment and then no inspiration endless desert of desperation and depression hop from one city to the next no end in sight run from problems hide from anything that could make life exponentially better callous and fearless and crude joking about life and death to cope with grief take everything for granted burn bridges, never let them see you cry let the status quo control you go to college, get a job don’t be a burnout, dropout, failure let them define happiness and let them measure my success overweight sunburned living in a garage if that’s not success I don’t know what is the adolescent american dreaming of easy money can’t even drive a car I need glasses and new pants bought running shoes but I’m only running from my problems bury my anger and depression nervous laughing crack a joke, as long as you don’t crack you’re fine talk about your goals but only half-heartedly pursue them like a cop who wants the donuts more than the punks he chases I want a wife, a life, of happiness with kids and a house a degree and income talk about religion and philosophy read books, but never bother to finish inconsistent, and never complete talk when you don’t know what you’re saying never admit “I don’t know” count your friends on one hand but don’t let it know what the other hand’s doing my mind has a mind of its own I never bother to follow through like a tree that is uprooted by the storm struck with wanderlust I fly away
0
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC
Just Muddle Through
you ever feel like we’re too connected? like everything is so crowded and jammed up that we don’t notice each other the little things, the stop to smell the roses moments pass us by and we are rushing from here to there to and fro ants in an ant farm squished unknowingly up against the glass the sun glares down like a hungry beast we scurry into our holes and hideouts communicating in ones and zeros but always missing the point we seek meaning and passion and excitement but complain we have no courage our lives move and move like rafts on the Mississippi But I had better things to do than read Huck Finn hours of mindless entertainment and then no inspiration endless desert of desperation and depression hop from one city to the next no end in sight run from problems hide from anything that could make life exponentially better callous and fearless and crude joking about life and death to cope with grief take everything for granted burn bridges, never let them see you cry let the status quo control you go to college, get a job don’t be a burnout, dropout, failure let them define happiness and let them measure my success overweight sunburned living in a garage if that’s not success I don’t know what is the adolescent american dreaming of easy money can’t even drive a car I need glasses and new pants bought running shoes but I’m only running from my problems bury my anger and depression nervous laughing crack a joke, as long as you don’t crack you’re fine talk about your goals but only half-heartedly pursue them like a cop who wants the donuts more than the punks he chases I want a wife, a life, of happiness with kids and a house a degree and income talk about religion and philosophy read books, but never bother to finish inconsistent, and never complete talk when you don’t know what you’re saying never admit “I don’t know” count your friends on one hand but don’t let it know what the other hand’s doing my mind has a mind of its own I never bother to follow through like a tree that is uprooted by the storm struck with wanderlust I fly away
Written by
hudson-everett
American
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC
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