I’m saving everything

I’m saving everything

I know it doesn’t seem like it
But I am saving the country
And the world
And everything

I know it seems like I’m flail-failing
But everything’s
going according to plan
Don’t worry about a thing

I know it seems implausible
but all this brinkmanship
it’s not even showmanship
it’s carefully orchestrated

I’m holding everything in my mind
democracy, societies, peoples’ fool notions
I’m factoring it all in
and bringing it
to a happy

It doesn’t seem like it
but that’s just because
I’m not here to seem
like winner
I’m not even here
to win
I’m here to fix everything
and that’s
a different type of game

I have it all figured out
but not like you’d think
I have it all figured out
like a small child’s last
when, his village raided,
father slain and mother abducted,
he hurls his little toy tomahawk
and bangs a mighty warrior
in the calf,
which causes this 17 year old war-paint-faced kid to swing around
and send a thoughtless — later he thought upon it and winced in regret — axe
through the small Child’s head
I have it all figured out
like that blurry shock
when life freezes for a moment
and that moment lasts forever
until it’s gone forever

I have it all figured out
this holding to love
like your back presses
against the stone cliff
as you, arms stretched back and fingers desperately sinking into every half-inch ridge,
make your way along the facade.

I have it all figured out
but I can’t see
how my safety’s guaranteed
I can’t see how I’m a good idea
for you
who I love
who I need
to hold close,
even though,
or especially since,
you’re just a person,
and not Pure Love

I have it all figured out
but I can’t find
the point at which
the Hurt lets me alone
and I’m the man
I’m supposed
to be

I have it all figured out
How you sink your butt
down not just into the moment
but into the eternal
within all the bustling

It seems like I live to drink and fritter
but that’s not how it is
It seems like I’m defeated by a Hurt
in my gut that never lets me alone
but that’s a misunderstanding
It seems like I can’t do anything any good
but I can surely

I have it all figured out
I’m building a dirty bomb of Pure Love
and I’m sneaking it into the transporter beams
of the information age
You’ll see!

author: random alcoholic on the corner sipping something from a paper sack and ogling every passing woman in her sweatpants, hair in curlers, and otherwise not putting on a show for him
editor: leaf warbling in the wind and I think it’s gonna fall now
copyright: amw, but who cares?, what’s he protecting?, it’s like a little kid guarding his stack of pebbles

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