POEMS by SIR TIJN PO - World's First Übermensch

LET’S PLAY!

‘But a rook takes the pawn!’, she said.
‘Oh, but I’m not playing chess,’ I said.

‘But a flush trumps a …!’
‘I’m not playing cards either.’

‘But a million dollars is more than a thousand!’
‘I’m not playing capitalism.’

‘But … is more famous than …!’
‘I’m not playing Hollywood.’

‘But … is holier than …!’
‘I’m not playing god.’

‘What are you playing then?’
‘I’m playing pleasure.’

‘Oh! And how do you play that?’
‘However you find pleasing.
I’m making it up as I go along.’

‘But what if your pleasure interferes with mine?’
‘I don’t get pleasure from bullying.’

‘But what if I bully you?’
‘You won’t get pleasure from my revenge.’

‘But what if I take even more unpleasant revenge on you?’
‘Then we go to the endgame,
And may the best player win.’

PRIZES

Po don’t need no Nobel.

Perhaps he’ll give Nobel a Po.

TRAMPLED*

She is the perfect type of person,
To explain my kind of person,
To your kind of person…

Pound had no PhD,
Nor did Van Gogh,
Or Bach,
Beethoven,
Or any of the other myriad volcanoes
– Actual,
And metaphorical –
That nature produces,
Every now,
And again…

Without explanation,
Or justification,
Every once in a while,
Or every once in a where,
Nature simply brings together,
The precise combination,
Of materials,
And occurrences,
That produce volcanic eruptions,
Of lava,
Or genius…

Same difference…

You can’t buy your way,
Into becoming one…

Nor study your way,
Or steal,
Or sleep yourself up to it…

You either are,
Or you aren’t…

And if you aren’t,
The best you can hope for,
Is to study,
Buy,
Bribe,
Suck,
Or rim yourself to the top,
Of the heap,
Of academic experts,
Mediators,
Curators,
Interpreters,
Etc.

Thousands of PhDs have,
And will be,
Attained by analyzing people,
And things,
That barely know ‘their’ experts exist…

If at all…

A fact that you can do nothing about,
Regardless of how inappropriate it is,
For me to shove it in your faces like this…

And I don’t do it to raise myself,
– You will already never see the soles of my feet –
But to try to instill some humility in you,
For the sake of those you keep trampled,
Beneath your stinky mediocre feet…

*Turning down the ‘honor’ of being introduced to a professor who just had her political science book published by Harvard University Press.

FAILED PYRAMID SCHEME

The People worship the Movie Stars,
Who worship their Directors,
Who worship Novelists,
Who worship Poets,
Who worship Us.
Who are We?

We are the Skeletons,
Who shit new Colors and Flavors,
That will soon dominate your world,
But who often yearn for Bread,
Water,
And a chance to lick a Housemaid’s Ass.

SPECIES

When I eat you or your mama,
It ain’t cannibalism.

When I fuck you or your mama,
It’s bestiality.

When I kill you or your mama,
It ain’t murder,
It’s huntin’.

When I’m with you or your mama,
It’s still solitude,
Like you amongst the trees.

See how that works?

A LINGUISTIC PUZZLE*

I’ve seen the worst of humanity,
Within myself.
Within my fantasies, that is!

Theft, Murder, Revenge, Rape,
Etc., Etc.,
Only in my fantasies, that is!

Only fear of Punishment, Shame,
Etc., Etc.,
Keep them contained as fantasies.
For the time being, that is!

What does that make me?
Kind?
Moral?
A coward perhaps?
(A kind, moral coward, that is…)

*Written by a human friend of mine.

INSPIRED BY POUND’S CONFUCIUS

He said: ‘What	ONE does
with a gun to	ONE’s head,
is not what	ONE is to be remembered by.
Although there are times to let	ONEself be killed.’