Machinist

Machinist,
you operate
with such precision.
God couldn’t question
your unequivocal
decisions.

Machinist,
you pass
the ticking seconds
with flawless form
and true
perfection.

Consummate in purpose
with refined efficiency,
you are
immaculate simplicity.

Machinist,
you winnow
out zealous misperception.
With careful calculation
you defeat
deception.

Machinist,
you are
His concrete improvement.
Grace is but
symmetry of
movement.

Time cannot
know the dimensions
of your machine.
Nothing will stand
in the way of
your ironclad regime.

Let Me Be

How long did it take for you
to find your devil in me?
To finalize your condemnation
and nail Christ to your crusade?

How long did it take for you
to damn my friends to hell?
How long until you learn
to live and ask and tell?

If you see fit to
bring hell here,
don’t think to bitch
when I snipe at your fear.

The belt’s come down
for the last time.
I have no respect
for your starkly drawn line.

Keep the good books on the shelf
and your self-righteous comments to yourself.
I’ll do as I please
so just let me be.

the "baller"
of which you speak
makes a melon of my heart
in but a single beat,

I’d be lying if at every mutter
I would nod and pretend
to know just what it means.

all I want is to comprehend,
lockstep in the line of trend.
perhaps someday with a little luck
I might just understand.

If you asked me to I’d scream
fuck Thoreau, Emerson, and me.
If the lenses were in vogue
they could help me see.

If only. . .
I’d stand clad in uniform,
bowing to the social norm.
yet this inscrutable standard
holds me back,
away my grit,
alack! alack!

at our cores
we ache
to conform;
we gravitate
towards one another
but nature doesn’t weave
its design through me.
I am a body without mass,
I have a mind
but no mind to understand.