Last night we had one of the last four open mics we'll ever have at the Out of The Blue's Central Square location. I figured out one of our last features for the end of the month, and I have the poem up early. Given that this week's theme for Oddball Magazine is Trump, I'm surprised I didn't come up with another Trump piece. It's okay. I'll make up for that later, I'm sure.
I'm also surprised it's such a clearly apparent self-referential piece (more than usual at any rate), as evident in the title. Thanks to Mignon Ariel King for inspiring the title for reasons only she and I will understand.
Host Holy
Addressing an audience
is like hang gliding
with your parents watching,
about to slip on a name
as easily as a wet stone
on a mountain side.
Of all the stages of peace
the final one isn't
the inevitable return of chaos.
It's the sass of not caring,
a smile and wave
to your dentist,
your best impression
of a china doll
captures your indifference
over another failure
to captivate those
who wait to mutter,
apathy's activist army
slung signs saying
Save Our Self-Interests,
convinced you'll win
when there's nothing
worth conquering.
You will relapse again
hoping you can reach
the unheard high
of everyone's applause
cell phones unfused
to happy hands,
a children's crusade
scaling fortress walls
binding booster seats.
Special thanks to Bil Lewis, Chris Fitzgerald, Krystal, Martha Boss, Michael Igoe, Lee Varon and James Van Looy.
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