Synthesizing Honestly in Aggregation
Oligarchies and dictatorships
have fallen all the same
If two heads were better than one
evolution would have seen to it
The auteur theory sustains, no matter
how hard deep-pocketed studio owners disagree
If greatness was measured by financial success
than Van Gogh is the worst painter to ever pick up the brush
If riskless perfection is the goal, Hendrix should’ve never
picked up the flaming guitar by his LSD dripping teeth
I’d rather break my bones to break down the door
then wait for it to be opened
I’d rather speak with meaning
and be ignored than placate.
Confidence is the Infrastructure
There’s no doubt in my mind, there certainly shouldn’t be any doubt in yours-Bob Ross
Doubt will kill the poet before the Plath Syndrome gets a chance
If you don’t believe you have something worth saying, what are you saying?
If you speak for a response, you aren’t an artist but a reaction
The bard does not differentiate between love and hate
That is not his lot in life, that is the lot of everyone else
Some people will love you, some people will hate you
If you change to be loved by those who hate you, those who loved you will hate you
As they should, as you deserve, you are not a model, not meant to be beautiful
You are a heart bleeding and beating at an exponentially slower meter
This purpose is being the maggots on the street rot
This purpose is being unapologetic on how horrible you are
In hopes that someone will see and maybe say I might just try being me too.
A Pick-Pocketed Identity
Prison is only a trade school
for black market occupations
School is only a ceremonial entrance
into the magic trick that is distracting you for your entire life
Assembling your life like cheap Swedish furniture
Step-by-step, bullet point by bullet point
and somehow after following every detail perfectly
the puzzle you’ve assembled doesn’t look like the picture on the box
Note to Self:
You did what you were told to by those who didn’t care about what you want
and you are now surprised that your life isn’t what you wanted
There is design and there is following a template of a designer
You have lived a greyscale, milquetoast, Chinatown knock off of a life
No wonder, now it’s falling apart.
Trash Compacted to a Diamond
If you channel invert the night
sky transforms to acid rain
There are sketches more masterful
than molasses thick paint
on canvases larger than walls
I’ve heard a man use a ballpoint pen
and a wooden banister to compose music
more intricate than any orchestra
Gravity has laws, beauty doesn’t even have a guideline
Not to those who dedicate their lives to studying it
Who know how hard it is to see
It doesn’t hit you like a mortared wall
It hits you whenever it’s too late, whenever that may be.
John Maurer is a 26-year-old writer from Pittsburgh that writes fiction, poetry, and everything in-between, but his work always strives to portray that what is true is beautiful. He has been previously published in Claudius Speaks, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Thought Catalog, and more than fifty others. @JohnPMaurer (johnpmaurer.com)
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