No More Dark Define

Written January 2008. Spoken Word. Performed at RETRO Revolutionary Open Mic, Vision16 Mocktail, UCU Java Night.

...

Once ago, once ago

I flew the Himalayas, and watched

the sun streak over them in rising

I have been to championships,

I have met the humble and the chastising

I have toured in a taxi with a terrorist,

held my baby teeth within my fist,

I have an adopted little Indian brother,

I have cussed at my own mother,

I have worn two pythons around my neck

and felt like an idiot writing my first check,

I have broken my nose four times,

and gone on adventures,

            just to adventure

                        sometimes;

I have seen a man shake in utter fear,

I’ve stubbed a toe and wiped a tear;

I’ve declared to a girl that I’d be with her to the end—

I’ve won a heart,

            I’ve lost a friend;

I found a dead jellyfish on the shore

and got lost in a grocery store;

I rode an elephant once,

I’ve built a scarecrow and had it lit,

I’ve even gone to watch a concert,

and ended up playing in it.

I’ve known famous people

and prayed beneath a dozen steeples;

I’ve seen a Nepali woman furious at exercise yoga,

and been complimented by a Buddhist monk,

I’ve spoken Latin and learned how to say “toga” (…it’s… “toga”… in Latin)

I’ve run from a skunk!

I’ve seen my best friend fall off the proverbial cliff,

I’ve hung with people I’d call loose

and been called “stiff”

I’ve beaten an analogy to a pulp

            and I drank that glass of orange juice in one gulp

I’ve been handcuffed,

            and tasted my own medicine

I’ve seen all sorts o’ stuff,

            I’ve been caught in sin,

I’ve been choked on a school bus,

accidentally wiped whiteout on a teacher’s shirt,

I’ve collected rocks, chased snakes and frogs

and aimlessly dug holes in dirt

I’ve been afraid of dogs

I’ve sat on a sunken dock, and in the rain!

            to watch the drops, like pepper, play upon the lake—

I like to be called crazy—

            I think it keeps me sane

And all in 20 years

of vanilla birthday cake!

Why, I hope to live four times as long!

But now we’re shifting gears….

 

Back then…

 

Then

            I was a little boy

and Life

            was sandbox Tonka Toys

Dreams were commonplace—

As was the mud on my baby-fat face.

And, like some little boys

I had a dad—

I’d beam when he praised me,

            and cringe

                        when he was mad.

Through a long and drawn-out lesson

I’d learn to discern

            between good and bad

In scoldings, time-outs,

            spankings and shouts.

This is my upbringing, like many others.

 

Like many others,

            Then

                        I was a teenager

Arrogant and unsure

I was both Superman and the loser

I was king and I was victim.

There were moments, sure,

When I was void of all delight,

But like every fledgling artist,

            I had my time in limelight

                        Like many others.

                                                                                               

Like many others,

            Now

                        I’m a young adult—

Still I often feel unqualified for the job,

Or as if I’d joined a cult

But always I tend toward thinking

That I know more than I actually do,

We are so young, college students!

But we assume we’re heroes yet unsung.

We have LaRouche, we have Conservative,

Musician, Engineer

            Nerd and Homie-G;

You name it and it’s here!

We have the prideful and afraid,

Theologians and Agnostics,

the bums and the well-paid,

But what’s the difference if tomorrow,

We’re the same as yesterday?

I fear

That we’ll let life get away

Being caught between

Friends and enemies

Between those who uphold me

And those who scold me to my knees;

We have the broken and the breaking, shaken and shaking,

lust-slaking,

peace-making,

            truth-taking,

                        friend-forsaking,

                                    cause-for-headache-ing

                                                thought-baking

We have the

moral-teaching

            love-leeching,

                        shirt-bleaching,

                                    short-armed and far-reaching,

                                                humbly beseeching,

Sports-loving

            push-comes-to-shove-ing

                        innocent-as-dove-ing

Dawg-piling

            endless-smiling,

                        by-fire-trialing

                                    relationship-reconciling,

Propaganda-bellowing,

            way-showing,

                        temper-mellowing,

                                    face-glowing,

Class-rocking and nerd-mocking,

            the stunning and the shocking,

                        hatchet-burying and gun-cocking

                                    open-door and window-locking,

Joyless,

            hopeless,

                        faceless,

                                    heartless,

Joyful, hopeful,

            a face full of laughter

            and a heart full of depth

Here is the secret long best-kept:

I am not invincible—I never was!

Yet I make my choices and when asked for reason

I answer firmly “Just because!”

“I have rights!” I cry, but do I? Do I?

Was I not born? Will I not still die?

I am not a sadist, masochist, nor emo

But “ashes to ashes, dust to dust”—I’d like to know

real life,

I’d like to know

Why the scalding heat of summer always cycles into snow

Why we have those feel-good movies, and then their credits t’ end the show

Why we have sweet songs, and then their resolution chord,

Why there is an end to prince and pauper, both the lowly and the lord,

Why we have love and our beloved is soon lost,

Why we have gain and glory—but always with a cost

Why everywhere there’s white it’s not quite white

            but a mere and imperfect reflection of the truly bright white

Why everywhere there’s light it’s always lessened by the shadows

And, most of all—

            the silencer of tongues!

                        the stiller of our strife!

                                    the sobering truth

                                                that one day ends this life!—

Why we die although we grow

To grow and still die

 

Not quite the happiest thoughts,

No I know they are not

But flip them around,

they take on a better sound

that the freezing winter is always followed by the spring,

that the end of sweet songs means a new lyric to sing

that the poor are justified to meet the same fate

as the rich—the small as the great

that love is never a regret, for somehow it goes on,

that the cost of greatness is never one for which we long

that somehow, by not seeing white, we seek like ne’er before,

and that, though dark descend, we are promised light in one day more.

 

Do not close my childish eyes, as you have closed your own!

I will not be a mimic, sycophant, nor clone!

I will see the light, and not be scared to shine.

I will, too, see the dark, and bring to it the light.

We deny, defraud, defer,

But Truth’s always coming closer,

Let it not be fear that breeds

When I say Truth’s all you need

Let it not be a shaking hand that’s close

When I say the end is close at hand

Let it be only comfort, consolation

that Truth will be there on that day

that takes you from me away

I will feel it and remorse

But Truth will meet you at the finish line

When there is no Blemished White, no Dark Define,

We’ll have brothers, sisters, mothers, uncles, aunts and friends

On this my soul depends

And like back in that sandbox, playset swing

There’ll be no thinking too much, there’ll be no thing

but trust, between you and your Father

Truth will meet you there.

This life is like music.

It’s beautiful.

            But it ends.

I know Truth, and I know Life;

He’ll be there at the end.

On Him my soul depends.