poems
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Delights Not Me
I get so bored
with hearing how bored everyone is.
Isn't it normotic?
A calling is a delusion.
A slightly-stronger delusion
than a lack-of-calling.
We work so hard to create
satisfying narratives because
so little is narratively satisfying.
The ludic and the ludicrous.
Aesthetics opens the door,
ethics determines whether you’re allowed to stay.
How is it that "modern civilization"
proved to be so fragile, so vulnerable?
And every stupidity so inextinguishable?
Commitment is intermittent.
Most everyone is a pragmatist
when trapped by magma.
Okay, so Nietzsche went mad,
but did the horse ever go sane?
L’Âge, c’est moi.
We are humaning: identifying
patterns and repurposing them.
What have I not put in?
What have I kept for myself?
Cognition is a question, not a given.
Your strategy: to watch and to remember.
(I dreamed that line.)
Give me something—anything—to relish.
All poems are written and copyrighted by M. C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.