Poem that is inspired by a Marianne Moore poem

I, too, am extremely ecstatic about it.
The condensed emotions, moods, and themes
consume me with awe.
There are certain concepts that can only be conveyed
through the magical prose of poetry.

Any person desiring not to have anything to do with it
are without doubt murderous maniacs,
And must be taught the divine nature of
this supreme and perfect means of communication.

Poetry ought to be the only subject ever thought of
by the human mind.
Its detractors are heretics who deserve nothing from
their fellow man.
It is not only the harbinger of happiness,
The glue of society,
But also the very meaning of existence.

Crazy People

So you’re playing poker with your buds,

One eyed jacks and jokers wild,

And you’re all in for fifty billion dollars,

Because you tried to bluff it with a two pair.

You’re certain that Jimmy’s got a full house,

And that Timmy’s got a straight.

But then here comes the wild card.

This could do some damage.

It’s got no value, no way, nowhere.

Five minutes pass by and you’re one hundred and fifty billion dollars richer.

Your friends have locked that wild card away forever,

For wild cards can be dangerous,

And are a danger to both the economic equilibrium and the safety of society.

Garbage Men

Garbage Men

Garbage men are angels,
We have garbage,
They take it away.
You would think that they would grow sick of the stench,
But they don't mind.

They just keep taking it away,
until we die,
ans we produce garbage no longer.

Wish You Were Here

"Wish You Were Here"
By Pink Floyd

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue sky's from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
And how we found
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.


This poem is intended to be said in musical form, and that is the predominant reason that it is to my liking. But I also was greatly inspired by its super deep themes of love, loss, and mortality that are so predominant in all of the works of Pink Floyd.

Conform!

Conform! Conform!
Stop being an individual,
Stop jutting out like a sore thumb,
You're just a speck of soon to be forgotten carbon,
You're pitiful for yearning to be seen or heard,
Don't "aspire,"
Don't "stick out."

All of those people "having opinions,"
All of those people acting "like an individual,"
They are foolish for their arrogance,
They are pathetic for their "can-do" attitudes,
Don't struggle against "the man,"
Don't use your "imagination."

Sieze hoping for "change,"
Sieze hoping period, Nothing will change because of your existence,
Nothing shall be moved by your being,
So let their be silence and resignation from you, and conform!
Conform.