D. B. DEVILLIERS

Poetry

Month: November, 2014

The Mind A Temple

It’s long been said how
the body is a temple
and maybe, in a metaphorical sense,
there’s truth to that
but the mind is not.

With all of his terrible strength,
Samson would be unable
to collapse the mind into itself
and no amount of fury or hellfire
could level it, either.
The mind isn’t bound by physical restraints;
physical means threaten it
no more than they threaten God himself.

The mind, friends,
is infinite
and it will endure.

 

In Spite of Prudent Advice

If you insist upon loving me
against good advice and
for reasons I won’t pretend to understand
then, before you invest yourself in me,
I feel compelled to elucidate the reasons
for which I gave that advice—
you see, I’m quite crazy
and not in the way that most people call themselves crazy.
No, I’m really nuts,
and because of that, I’ve been known
to routinely make irrational decisions
with flagrant disregard
for whatever consequences might follow.
I’m cripplingly inconsistent
which, I am told
makes for a poor financial investment
and an even poorer emotional one.

Simply put, given past behavior,
I’ll likely continue to make
frequent and terrible mistakes
so understand that, if you choose to love me
I very well might
spurn reason and objective thought
and make some short-sighted, careless decision;
I might well eventually do
something rash and awful,
something that would doubtless leave
an irreparable crack in that mechanism by which
you and I both connect with others
and derive happiness from those connections.

To speak plainly—
if you end up loving me
odds are I’ll do something reckless and damaging
something that cannot be undone
something we’ll both regret
for a long, long time:

I might love you back.

Turn Around and Walk Quickly Away

If you’re going to love me,

don’t.

General Election

Our posters are fashionable and minimalistic:
white lettering
against a sky-blue background.
They project an aura of calm, quiet optimism.
Certain details are a mute shade of crimson
to elicit a vague sense of patriotism.
The posters were painstakingly engineered
for a large sum
by experts with doctoral degrees.
Their work is excellent—
the other candidates have also enlisted their services
and the firm’s executives drive cars
with interior trim fashioned from extinct trees.

The posters speak typical language.
Broad words assure voters
that I am likable, selfless, reliable, competent,
that their concerns are my concerns
that change is coming, but not too quickly
or too profoundly.
It is implied that
I will bring about this change,
and that this change will be good change.
I use the word “folks” a lot
to demonstrate that I am personable
and to facilitate a sense of personal connection
in voters’ minds.

Implications are made.

Voters are convinced that their ideas are their own
formed independently and unaffected by advertising.
We spend their money in billions
keeping that illusion alive.
We avoid hard facts and numbers.
We fight an emotional war
with words as ammunition
fired at base, unconscious motivations.
Getting things done is difficult and time-consuming
whereas seeming to get things done is easy
so our days are more efficiently spent
crafting and maintaining a convenient fiction
than dealing in fickle verity.

The reality is that no one wants reality.
People claim to seek truth, until they find it—
then they die trying to forget it entirely.
The world is cold and ugly.
It’s difficult to look at directly.
We assure the people
that reality isn’t quite so bleak
that we can control it
and this arrangement is mutually beneficial.
Right or wrong, good or bad, just or otherwise,
how you feel bears no consequence.
It is
has been
must be
will always be.

Delusion is the oxygen of civilization
and therefore is necessary.