Skip to main content

The Mechanics of Being Good



why good things happen to bad people i'll never never know.
now that was a freudian slip
i meant to say
it the other way.

why bad things happen to good people i'll never never know.
but that's the way it goes
i guess.
good people always in a mess
and the bad ones a-ok
as if there weren't any other way
to live. 
 
there is. 

no converse distinction between good things happening
and the quality of the people
that absorb them. 

or is there? 

if the all the cancer patients that don't get well
are "the nicest people you'll ever meet"
does that mean
that "the nicest people you'll ever meet"
are all the cancer patients that don't get well?
that's what some doctors say.

what if being good is killing them?
is it better to be bad and live? 

who knows.

- January 31, 2002

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Feelings

please tell me these feelings will end the nameless ones with no face the terror with no name, the memories hidden in dreams. each day they're getting less losing weight not getting fed by my choice. but still they persist made a habit by past munchings on the tidbits i threw them by accident. as they waste away i make new creations in my head to replace them. ones with no relations who will not check my past feelings to make sure they're ok. new feelings with the stability to stand on their own two feet though young and new. let them die. death to the traitors who took away my life. i will make new ones to rise again a resurrection of the just. --March 27, 2002

Is it enough

today i let go of something that wasn't mine -- your love. you leant it to me for a while but then you took it back again. i tried to play tug of war because i thought it was mine. but you reminded me it was yours all along to give and take as you chose.            

Commuting

She reads her paper Oblivious To its intrusion on my air space Mine, claimed by possession Hrumphing if by my presence I make her fold it into tiny sections To keep it out of my face The seats on the train too small For the size of her and her paper Who is right? The size of the seat Or the space she really needs Or the space I take by force? Blond hair, bright, shiny, streaming Makeup perfect High-heeled boots Everyday I walk past her Behind her Around her We get on the same train At the same time I work in the same building At the same company We ride the same elevators She's never noticed me Oblivious But unhappy Admiring her new boots He walks his kids to school And himself back home Coffee cup in hand Not oblivious to me Wishing he were walking me to school instead Scraggly beard, sad Thinking life had to be better than this Trying to hide it from his family But I, the stranger, s...