I wrote this yesterday, but I'm still on the fence as to whether or not I like it, so please critique it as much as you like! NOTE: The shema is the traditional Jewish call to prayer and statement of faith, its English translation is what I have included in the poem An Armchair Philosopher What will be thought of me when The only knocking on my door will be from clods of dirt? Would anyone bother to sift through Things I pounded onto pages? Things that are the residue of A bleeding conscience. Perhaps it doesn’t matter, Since that day lives at a Place five or six decades up from here, Though not far from my current fixations. I thought I had the greatest idea, So I gouged out my critical eye to Allow the idea to be printed on my tongue. Subjective morality was already on the bookshelf, In the Pointless Arguments section. At least Dharma’s aren’t as deflating. No rites, rituals, or physical sacrifices- If you don’t want them. Just like a box of philosophical Legos. I used to play with Legos. I didn’t realize how they played with me. If I could only see the metaphor of Smashing, rebuilding, and reconfiguring. I always did it, no matter how pissed, I became if I didn’t get the directions. Patience stood, alongside Perseverance and Joy. Though the box didn’t include them. I think of my Judaic past with its’ millions of martyrs. Death is not a philosophy, Though it masquerades as one until it calls to us. Poor Rabbi Akiva whose skin was stripped from his face While he sang the Shema HEAR O ISRAEAL, THE LORD IS OUR GOD THE LORD IS ONE. My first philosophy stretches its hand out from the past, Bringing its warm delicious Friday nights, And holy Saturday mornings. If I knocked on this long neglected door, Would I discover something different? So, as I lie on my bed, now approaching Life with a university in tow, I mull over the future. I have yet to write a thesis, But I think I know where to begin. For I may be a breath away from genius, One step away from immortality.
