cover photo: Domination by Chris Sabor
An optimist sees beauty in everything,
a pessimistic calls it fake news.
Canadian Composer Renan Javier’s Epoch
“He only tried to bring beauty into an ugly
world, and they killed him for it.” – Tombstone
DEATH TO THE INTERNAL OPTIMIST
by Kendall F. Person
Death to the eternal optimist, I say.
Death by unanimous decision, made by town decree.
Only one option you are given,
change course or listen, as the last words are spoken.
“Here ye, Here ye, death to the eternal optimist on this day”
Death to the belief, that words inspire peace
or there exist such a thing as common ground.
Death to the happy endings and curses to the ever after,
and be damned eternal optimist, for believing in dreams.
Death to the belief,
that respect is all we need to give
and in equal parts it will be returned.
Death to the notion,
of not being too heavy for my brother,
and death in believing we can all win.
Death to nobility, bonding & honor
and to being a man of our word.
“But why should words with meanings so stoic,
die by the sword, at this very moment?” You ask
“For shattering so easily.” I say
Death to the thought, your closest compatriot
would not use the dagger on you.
And death in believing, there needs to be a reason.
As you lay bleeding, gasping “Whyyyy??” is futile,
so save your breathe, as you will need it.
Death to the notion of big cities that love you
and hometowns, that adore you,
and the meaning of words that run like this “I got your back”,
and that love needs a reason to disappear.
And death to any day, that is filled with total happy.
A trap I say! so our fall can be a maximum disaster.
And death to the belief,
that tomorrow will bring relief
and that anything will ever be okay.
With the eternal optimist having been read his last rights, and as the executioner moves into place, an acceptance trickles down, that pessimism is sound; it was the optimist that made the mistake. There is no struggle, for the optimist truly believed the war had been lost and peace was all a dream.
But then we hear them. The soldiers of peace.
“We can never give up. Not even if we want to.”
So we shake away the anger; end the pity party early, then breathe. For deep inside, we knew the optimist was all right, since there is no such thing as death to anything, that springs eternal.
this is… The Neighborhood
The Plight of the Powerless Consciousness