We are Steeped in the Absurdity and Horror of Tragic Irony
Once upon a time, I wrote poetry. Well, it lived somewhere between poetry and prose and that's exactly where someone like me has always lived, in the in-between, in the liminal spaces of life. Anyway, I've been working on this piece for some months now and it's time I push it into the light: We are Steeped in the Absurdity and Horror of Tragic Irony I am 45 years old; I’m exhausted. Exhausted by being told what to care about and not care about decade after decade after decade by people who you and I have nothing in common with, people so out of touch that they couldn’t tell you what a gallon of gas or a carton of eggs or a damn BANANA costs and we’re gonna let them tell US how to feel? Yet still they sit on their thrones of power in ivory towers playing ping pong with America, batting her back and forth and back and forth and back and forth decade after decade after nauseous decade, as We the People cling to that ball, the ride never ending, as the ivory tower people convi...
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