Your Mark

You're just one of billions,
Now and what came before,
That you think what we do makes a difference,
Well, I just love you more.

I suppose you could point at a Jesus,
Though e'en he will become part of the past,
Unless the world ends now,
In which case not even the past will last,

And Jesus didn't live to see his boon-
Uhm, well how about Blake,
Considered insane by those who knew him,
Then his fame came too late.

So, what's the point?
It's about feeling good,
While you are alive in your little world,
And you can say that all be as it should.

Meant To Be

You're an individu'l,
With your very own thoughts,
Born of the world in which you found yourself,
With its own don'ts and oughts,

Born of a culture that's already there,
Born of circumstances,
Like hills, rain, drugs, and those that came before,
As key to who you are as one's hand is.

So as you lie there in a pool of blood,
Wond'ring how you got here,
The millions judging you through tel'vision,
Are convinced it's quite clear:

You'ere born for it,
Nothing could change your ways,
E'en though your fam'ly says you were a saint,
It was bound to happen one of these days.

Berlin Walls

When there is a city,
Robust and happening,
Gentrification's inevitable,
Yet always surprising,

With Berlin Walls of abandoned projects,
Protecting the new ones,
With a little money and willingness,
To live amidst the poor and construction.

They know it will only last for a while,
When at the other end,
They have more money and less Berlin Walls,
And more like-minded friends.

And what of those,
Who made way for the new?
Their lives are the same in a diff'rent place,
Like the lives of those who replaced them, too.

Elizabeth Warren

What was that that you asked?
What banks we've brought to court?
As regulators our hands are quite tied,
That's not what we're here for.

Financial institutions help us all,
They provide the structure,
That supports our very way of living,
The pursuit of happiness, true and pure.

We're there to fill in the natural hole,
Of dissatisfaction,
That forms when there is inequality,
And clear exploitation.

So, there you go,
You needed us to say,
What everyone knows but don't talk about,
Lest there's demand for more equit'ble ways.

Happy Valentines Day

Today's the day of love,
Whatever that might mean,
Generations have sought to define it,
Yet, it's never been seen,

It's yet to be proven that it exists,
Except for those who have,
But when they explain it to the others,
It's always sentimental and half-assed,

It's always mired in one's own feelings,
Which can't really be felt,
By the person reading words on a page.
For their heart to be melt,

They need real love,
Really, the goal of all,
For anyone trying to find meaning,
On this tiny, lonely, sad, mixed-up ball.

Ikea Blues

I know that Ikea,
Is just another store,
People and computers are not perfect,
Regardless of its lore,

Yet it surprises me eternally,
That I am missing parts,
Because now it's going to take me hours,
And it's breaking my heart,

This thing whose essence already exists,
Is denied existence,
If this is how god were to run his store,
This world would be a mess.

So here I sit,
Drowned in imperfection,
I may as well open a store myself,
If it only requires this precision.

Love's Distraction

How does one keep focused,
On what he has to do,
To keep doing what brings him the most joy,
When distracted by you?

You who puts road blocks at every turn,
Not that you really care,
It's just some unhappy humans' fate,
To prance so blissfully into your snare,

Like when you hoisted upon me your love,
The attention kept me,
From reaching love out to the world beyond,
The confines of that theme,

Which still worked out,
For who does not want love?
Even those who've only heard about it,
Know it as a blistery-cold day's glove.

Grow Up

You know what I'm thinking,
Everybody does,
Just block out the noise that this world creates,
This reality fuzz,

This background music, why did you do that,
She can't possibly mean what she's saying,
I'm hearing something more,
Coloured by my yen and lack of hearing,

This ulterior motive point of view,
A complicated world,
'Cause if you actually mean what you say,
Then you, poor thing, are fooled,

Into thinking,
That living can mean truth,
You just haven't grown out of the magic,
And eternal optimism of youth.

Mom

There IS magic in life,
You are the proof of it,
Living with faith that if you have the faith,
The un'verse will comment,

And why not?!  There's already, in our head,
A voice that's not our own,
As helpful as our other five senses,
And as missed if it should leave you alone.

How must you have felt, when the doctor said,
In fact, we think you're fine,
And you would be taking that poison now,
If you'd not asked for time.

You remind me,
Of my happiest days,
When I lived by faith in my instinct's goals,
When the outcome never failed to amaze.