What’s the point of anything?
Who knows what tomorrow brings?
Can anyone who sings such sad songs
not feel wrong when it’s spring?
Where are we going to get?
Who knows? We seem to forget
what really matters, and just let pure hate
dictate our whole mindset.
28 May 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
In just a minute’s brief span
the world is made and unmade.
Try as you may, no one can
restore colors once they fade,
nor take back a piece once played.
There is no time but right now;
all the rest is lost in shade,
turned underneath new farrows.
You can choose to grow or die –
to sink a root or wither;
at least you think you decide,
while doing both or either.
27 May 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
We never plan for the worst,
no matter how grim it gets.
The whole world may die of thirst
watching the dying sun set
and still, we think there is time.
We can’t imagine an end
or pit so deep we can’t climb
our way out. We just pretend
there is always a lifeboat
with some room for us, at least,
that will somehow stay afloat
after others’ hope has ceased.
It’s a sad and lonely state
if you’re the sole survivor;
and no point in blaming fate
if you don’t like the mirror.
27 May 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
Almost, nearly, next to, practically, virtually, pretty much, just about, perfect. Or talented. Or holy. Compassionate, professional, persuasive, convincing, genius, helpful, useful, good enough, or just enough. And that’s on the plus side, Imagine yourself as the absolute antithesis: almost unbearably, dispassionately, sadistically, cruelly, mischievously and maybe also horribly perfect. Or wealthy. Or powerful. That’s what the dream of absolute power sells you. That if you had enough power, you could be perfect. Like that little girl in the story by Saki, you could be “horribly good.”
But how does that work out? Once you’re “almost” something, you stand at the edge of a chasm so vast and endless that you are damned, like Zeno, to forever advance from your position at 99% to a full 100% in half-lengths that never get you any closer than half way there with each step.
Because perfect is a pipe dream. Just like forever. Or never, for that matter. These are ideas that convince you to chase your tail, sell yourself into wage slavery, cut off your nose to spite your face, or surrender yourself to an unseen, unverifiable, uncommunicative, and otherwise unpleasant dictator you created to relieve yourself of personal responsibility for why you live and die.
Think of it this way: we’re almost ready.
To start. To evolve. To grow. To prosper. To destroy. To decay. To diminish. To die.
That’s a lot of chasm to cross. And not a lot of time to get there, considering the only time we have is almost gone, nearly wasted, and just about up.
On the other hand, that last one percent is not as far as it looks. Objects in the mirror can sometimes be closer than they appear.
23 May 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
How we treat the very least,
whether human or rough beast,
criminal, servant or priest,
from next door, far west or east,
speaks volumes on what we are.
It seems strange and most bizarre
to place one above the bar
and one below. It’s not far
from calling something “other”
down a slippery slope, brother,
discovering another
way to screw us all over.
Take a look in the mirror;
objects that appear are nearer
than you think – and what you fear
is looking back, sharp and clear.
23 May 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
You’ve a chair there at the table;
food for all – that ancient fable
doesn’t take into account
that no amount, for some, is able
to fulfil their need for more.
Never mind others are poor
and just take up too much space;
their place is outside the door.
Put a roast in every pot;
we hear that old line a lot.
You gnaw the bones or chew the fat:
it’s like that. Tell me it’s not.
Look around the room some time:
how far did you need to climb
to crawl up in that soft chair,
from down there in the slime?
Just who did you leave behind,
thinking that they wouldn’t mind
giving you their portion too?
You know it’s true. You’re not blind.
22 MAY 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
The world evolves without suspense or trick;
it is and it becomes, with no delay,
both seed and flower’s dried husk, derelict
from newborn babe within each single day.
What seems to be so permanent and cast
in stone, begins to crumble at its birth;
mere nothingness is all that seems to last –
and we know just exactly what that’s worth.
The past and future are both fantasy;
they live both in our minds, and not at all.
You may as well believe you are a tree
to think spring comes again after your fall.
And yet, life is worth living, here and now.
You’re given when and where; what’s left is how.
21 MAY 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
