The reason you eat so much is that you're not getting laid.
Or possibly, it's that life has not filled you.
And the reason life has not filled you
is because you are incomplete.
I looked up, and there you were
Riding on a thousand-petaled lotus
Blaming your mother for everything
that has gone wrong.
Beyond the horizon where stretches my gaze
You're blissfully entangled, lounging in Mercury's arms.
"Mercury's retrograde for three weeks," you said.
Your smile was wane as He cradled your head
Twisted painfully from looking back the wrong way.
I got a headache watching you shimmer,
sliding in righteous retrograde.
I've got a neck sprain,
I've lost my taste for dinner.
The Blessed Mother and I
are attempting to fathom why
your companion, Complaining,
Moves you, sputtering,
out of void, into spasm.
The reason you flounder and flail at communication
Isn't because Mercury's retrograde.
It isn't because you were born on a full moon.
Or lost your spoon on the subway.
Or weren't breast-fed long enough,
or were potty-trained too soon.
Your explanations are like trails of diabetic sugar
Snorted into the all-knowing abyss
Of every rationalization you've ever uttered,
And all the magnificence you've ever missed.
If the excuse of time was like a giant asshole,
You could kiss yourself about the cosmos, across the centuries.
The reason you fail is because you succeed at failing
And spike your excuses to goal posts of a falling star.
You're ranting & railing,
You're whining & wailing,
are the Pony Express by your headless rider.
You're almost compelling. Amazing to imagine
how far you have gone
Charting the distances of maybe
and the chasm of regret.
Beloved, were I to tell you
How dazzling is your true and immortal soul,
The heavens would weep with happiness
And your mother would stop nagging,
And from her tears, happy dolphins would leap,
Forming formations of abstract geometry
Even Busby Berkeley could like.
What is your pay-off for not advancing?
It's a career based upon an identity crisis.
It's almost romancing.
Jesus appeared in a flawless polka-dot bikini
Just to help you find your way.
He succeeded with the Slim-Fast Diet.
He was buffed and trim and said you should try it.
At last, the Universe was in sync with perfection,
and no darkness
was swept under the rug
in your closet of blight.
The planets were in perfect alignment.
The feng shui expert was pleased.
Your abusive relatives begged for your forgiveness.
Yet you still had to whine,
and plead.
Lord God sent you an angel shimmering with light
Just to help get you started,
to place your feet on the path.
You sent the angel away.
You sent supreme consciousness packing.
"I think I have indigestion from the pizza I ate.
I must be hallucinating. I'm really not that great."
And as you turned your back to yourself,
Flowers fell from Heaven, to land in the snow.
You sat with your arms folded by the Tree of Life,
Watching the starlight fade.
(Copyright 2001 by Darius Gottlieb - No reproduction without express permission from the author)