If by my will and will alone
Through some organic force untold
Hydrangeas, bridges, bricks and bone
Would unify from distant tone
To solid sculpted gold

My talents noticed in the park
A twig I gild to pass the time
And elevated fast and stark
From oddity to work of art
Seraphic and sublime

— —

This obsession’s got a hold on me
Families competing on TV
For a 32” LCD
On a show I’m hosting for a fee
And I’m getting pretty weary of the gold lamé
Is this the kind of person people really look up to today?
Is it too late cause I wanna think twice
Put the golden mausoleum on ice
And call up Oprah and inform her that I can’t attend
I’m gonna hide away where nobody will find me again

/////

Hear people tapping
At the window
They’re tryna take away my handles and keys
Good luck when this economy’s destabilization
Is all down to me
I wish that I could
Pull the gloves off
I coulda been somebody don’t you agree?
Aren’t I just the sort of freak who makes a million prancing around on TV?

——

But then I’m sure I’d grow to hate
That too, I guess I need to find
A middle I could tolerate
But that seems far too complicated
For my tiny mind

Is that what people do all day
Live conscious calculated lives
Or think about it less than I?
Perhaps the thing I need to try
Is turning off my mind

— —

You’re idling
By the cenotaph
And it’s obvious
The thing to do
You bend
And pet a pigeon
And it stays
Unafraid
Of your body
Emanating
Not a thought

/////

Does having a thought cement the thought permanently and is it de-haveable?
Is there a way to control forgetting to a reliable extent or is that just suppression? I feel a deep spiritual weight on me, the rules of it seem to have been given some kind of ergonomic logic by some thinking force, otherwise I’d have turned my whole body to metal the first time I washed myself. And when was that? Why did it start when it did? What event in my life triggered this thing? And does the power wane as I get older? Am I going to become weaker at this? Why am I afraid of that, isn’t that exactly what I want? Has this become so fundamentally a part of me that to lose it would be to lose myself? Would I mourn the loss of the thing I most despise? This afternoon I discovered if I was thinking really hard about it I could transform both an object and another object touching it. When I walk barefoot outside I leave golden footprints embedded in the ground and you can chart how anxious I am by excavating them and measuring how deeply they penetrate the earth beneath me. Is this what it’s like to be a god of some kind? Am I being blessed or punished? Why do I even examine it using such a basic moral dichotomy, why would I imbue fate and the universe with human characteristics when it treats us so inhumanely? There’s no logic to it, and the structures we create are entirely artificial. But even by that metric, am I better than other people? Or am I lesser? Why do I keep falling into the same moral dichotomy as before? Isn’t that an innately human action that proves I’m not some sort of other being? Sometimes I brush past objects and they don’t get transformed, is it possible that if I were rigorous enough with myself I’d be able to turn it on and off? Is intention the same as want? Is there any way to separate my conscious thoughts from my actions? Is there any way of preventing that from being a total mess? Is there any way this could kill me? Will it end my life somehow one day? Has it already?