The Fotomat

Sanitized through the sands of time
My memories of the Fotomat
Are pristine and picture-perfect
The remnants of a seemingly simpler time

Poised parenthetically in parking lots
These bastions of drive-thru culture
Housed the hopes of hundreds
That their modest memories would be maintained

And like the photographs they dispensed
They have faded into the landscape
Worn down by weather and time
Withering wistfully into the past

In these days of plentiful photography
I sorely miss the time of these icons
Where the rarity of picture taking
Met with the now rarity of film

See What We Have Made For You

See the fear that we have made for you
It's been designed for your enjoyment
Partake of it slowly letting it seep into your bones

And once it's part of you, inseparable
Then and only then are you ready
To propagate it to others

See the god we have made for you
It's been designed for your enjoyment
Partake of it early letting it seep into your bones

And once it's part of you, indistinguishable
Then and only then are you ready
To proclaim it to the world

See the lie we have made for you
It's been designed for your enjoyment
Partake of it often letting it seep into your bones

And once it's part of you, irrefutable
Then and only then are you ready
To kill for it

An Alliterative Allusion of Affluence

Bobbles bought and brought back home
In big bright bags
Bring but a brief moment of bliss

And wanting wanes once one has won
The one thing of worth that one wanted
Winning a mere whiff of wealth

Then reality rears and ruins the rapture
Of recently retrieved rewards and revives the rational
For repeating the ritual regularly reserved for the rich

Such senseless spending sprees
Are sadly sparse substitutes
For some sense of societal significance and stature

The Naked Canvas

The naked canvas sits silently longing for the artist
Who has long been replaced by a charlatan
One whose canvas would be best left blank
Instead of stained with the paints of deceit

This alleged artist has partaken of the Kool-Aid
Subscribing that anything proclaimed as art is art
But if everything is art then nothing is
And if nothing is art then art is nothing

And in this world of nothing the con artist dips his brush
Feigning emotion with each stroke that mars the lonely canvas
Producing a work void of truth and of worth
Saying nothing by those who have nothing to say

And in a time where the void is filled by commerce
The purveyors of perjury pervert the process further
Giving it commercial value by titling it appropriately
A Polar Bear in a Snow Storm

Illusions

Youth and hope conspire to create a single scenario of success as inevitable and propel the naïve neophyte into action

Fueled by this knowledge, our pristine Pollyanna proclaims its intentions and expectations which fall upon a deaf and cruel world

Undaunted, the innocent doubles its efforts at the cost of all else fully confident that its certain success will squelch its detractors

But truth has the final word on the matter and proves that success is an elusive prize randomly reserved for the fortunate few


Experience and bitterness conspire to create a full future of failure as inevitable and cast the wounded into a quagmire of doubt

Hampered by this knowledge, our pessimistic protagonist’s feats of folly and fear elicit jeers from an unimpassioned and critical world

Undaunted, the desperate doubles its effort at the cost of dignity fully confident that its eventual success will squelch its detractors

But truth has the final word on the matter and proves that actions without purpose procure a hollow and flaccid victory


Wisdom and time conspire to create a rendering of random reality as inevitable and ground the weary on a foundation of understanding

Empowered by this knowledge, our helpless hero resigns from the unwinnable war unnoticed by a preoccupied and disinterested world

Undaunted, the astute redirects its effort at the cost of nothing fully confident that its actual success will confuse its detractors

And truth has the final word on the matter and proves that absolute success and purpose are merely illusions