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Everything's a Pipe Dream

I've learned at this point
that everything's a pipe dream,
for me at least.
woe is me.
Everything's a pipe dream.

There's no up,
or even side to side.
There is only down,
where there is no bottom,
because my old bottom
has shown me
that any barrier,
any boundary
no matter how low
can be crashed through.

Breathing is a pipe dream
and everything I've learned,
or thought I had learned
I've had to rethink.
woe is me.

I've spent the past two years
feeling sorry for myself.
I've spent the last three years
angry at the world,
at my own insecurities,
at my faults,
and the faults of others.
My education,
the skills I learned,
all of it - just a pipe dream.

You get to an age where you have to ask yourself
if you can yet see the end of the line.
I told my ex - wife that I was done for
and life so far has done little to change my perception.
Oh, I'll watch motivational videos from time to time,
and but for the temporary feeling of elation
what do they do for me?

Life, it seems,
is not about talent or wisdom, or strength, or perseverance.
(oh, remember how we were taught the blessings of perseverance?)
Life, it seems,
is about resources -
the buying and selling of that talent, wisdom, et al.

I was told
as a child
to stay away from drugs,
and to only drink in moderation.
I was taught
as a boy
to be an honest gentleman,
and hold doors open,
and treat the people around me with respect.

When I grew up
I saw that the people who succeeded
weren't like me,
didn't grow up like me.
The people like me had a ceiling,
and a bunch of pipe dreams.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 


Everything is a pipe dream, then I'm living the dream.
No point to feeling sorry for oneself but grab life and shake it by the throat.
That is how the Happy Chappy remains so happy.

Keith Logan
the happy chappy

Obviously this work is very honest. To be honest with oneself is as hard to do as to "know thyself" .

There is a lot of theater in the poem, the woe is me is both comic and serious at the same time.
The confessional style is very prevalent at this time, and this is certainly in that ring- "here's how i feel about it, laid on the table" The part of me that sometimes feels exactly the same likes the poem, the part of me that tries to find redemption/joy/amazement/even love, does not.

One guide I had in life was the philosopher Krishnamurti, and among his very Socratic approach is the idea that we can find joy when we stop chasing for answers for questions we can't possibly understand. One should stop torturing oneself, and look around and have a good time.

There is no god in the poem which is how the mass of humanity solves the problem. For us non believers, there is nothing new about understanding the almost sadistic reality of being human. The Greeks understood it, Shakespeare sure did. There is joy in the imagination- in great music, or some other Art creation or within the poetry of science (which is what science IS to some people).

The poem implies the good life is about "resources" which is not well defined. What are these resources- is it just some are born richer, or have connections of some sort to make "things happen" ? Are you suggesting in the last stanza that the people who succeed don't have pipe dreams? And what is this success- just material? or people who are just "happy" or content?

Difficult questions when the poem is in a dark night of the soul, looking for some reason to smile,
But keep writing. For many, it gives the suffering a place to hide.

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

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