#goodbye (ode to instagram)

as posted on Instagram, February 8th, 2018 by bj draKe.

this is bjdraKe.com ; mostly poetry.  it was down for a year after a brain injury n hasn’t fully been updated since relaunch, but it will serve as the only “official” glimpse into the window of my life.  i’m quitting instagram.  i quit facebooK long ago n instagram is starting to feel like when the relapsed junky says, “at least it’s not heroine.”  it’s become a meaningless exerciese of the thumb.  plus, the advertisements maKe it less punK.  i’m not quitting b/c i thinK the platform is involved in some grandiose experiment to manipulate/indoctrinate/distract the log/d on, but they more than liKely are.  the reason ; time is precious.  that’s it.  there’s more to life than scrolling thru curated peeKs into other people’s/stranger’s lives.  sure, the bathroom will dull, but i’ll picK up a good ol’ fashion/d booK when i shit.  liKe we used to.  #goodbye.

bj draKe.

enlighten/d brooding

sit ; cross your legs, open your palms, close your eyes n be quiet.

w/o hesitation, whirling thru the upper layers of consciousness is redundant n trivial thoughts, radio chatter n gossip that confuse the silence. the day’s blah-blah-blah. sport statistics, the weather, tv commercials. acKnowledge these distractions n let them go ; quicK taste of a silent mind

until the silence is broKen by more mundane confrontations/conversations of real/perceived images that attacK/validate your nine-to-five ego n question your self-worth. acKnowledge these distractions n let them go ; silence is lengthen/d as you go deeper …

the artist quips thru the quiet, reminds you who you are isn’t the real you. ridicules your worKing class accomplishments, your fear of success, your willingness to conform n reminds you of all your creative failures ; acKnowledge these distractions n let them go ; silence is increased as you go deeper, still.

in stomps all regrets, mistaKes, guilt. anything you wish to forget, but can’t b/c someone else alive Knows what happen/d. the growing list of people that you should apologize to before death ; acKnowledge these distractions n let them go ; then, as quicKly as these voices are silenced

trudges in the grudges, hatred, anger, betrayal, disloyalty. all of the hurt n repression that explains the evil in you ; acKnowledge these distractions n let them go.

n then, finally, complete quiet

forever,

as you wait in absolute silence
hoping to uproot the pleasantries
that laid the foundation of good
in you.

but,

shh.

bj draKe

billboard dreaming

a million dollars is a myth
foreclosed, dead-end suburbs
white or blue collar ; humbl/d
both a collar ; leash/d
gold chains n draped in logos ; fad
idolize mtv ; walKing billboards
cancerous advertisment
smoKing heavy ; lights tho
escape regularity by chance ; lotto
drunKen daydream about winning
violent whiplash ; home-sweet-home
“if you see a cloud sunshine comes after”
no fun quoting instagram proverbs, anymore
wait/d patiently for my turn, but
others Kept budging ; squander/d
speaK up n stand tall, pipsqueak
living allowance-to-allowance
worship magazine deitie’s glossy lies
praying to waKe up #bless/d

bj draKe

tomorrow

darK cabal sorcery
hexing positivist
conceptualized agendum
elitist hypothesis
of a better world.

georgia guidestones ;
language crumbles.

machetes n
grenade launchers
plagues
aids n
avian flu ;
necessary evil.

population mutates into
parasitic infestations.

high-art.

ivory tower.

no fresh ideas.

latest ideologies
written for radio.

technology confuses
idea of tomorrow.

free-Knowledge ;
anything is possible.

educated working-class revolts.

bj draKe

cannonball

the weaK inherit
democracy’s debt.

peace comes w/a price-tag.

boom.

refurbish/d landscape, discount/d.

hole fill/d w/garbage
from foreign lands of plenty ;
no clean drinking water
for a swimming pond.

cannonball !

children strangled in
plastic six-pacK rings.

bj draKe

in stuff we trust

war is for profit, but
money is man-made, so
man made money
violent by design.

on the other side
the sKy is falling
in a village whose name
you can’t pronounce.

it might not exist.

poor Kids die.
rich Kids live forever.
god bless/d ‘merica.

the war on terrorism is
a made for tv mini-series ;

commercial breaKs
advertised reminders of
what we’re fighting for.

“in stuff we trust.”

it is your patriotic duty
to support our troops n
buy stuff.

wipe the blood off the eyes
of benjamin franKlin
so he can see what he’s worth.

bj draKe

deflate

the recess bell clang/d n the hallways flood/d w/sneaKers n
bacKpacKs n granola bar wrappers, exit doors batter/d n
bulged n burst thru as grunts, puffers n butterfly fish
meander/d down poky streams that puddled
together to form festering mud pits.

i saunter/d w/my soccer ball clutch/d closely n noticed
Kids weren’t waiting for me the soccer ball , instead
tacKling n rolling gaily in the grass w/a football,
n they laugh/d at my “girl” ball n told me
what to do to come join them,
“no.”

i trudged to the desolate
tennis court n KicK/d
the soccer ball
flat.

bj draKe

blinK/d

two eyes ogle
at the glinting
of a candyfloss/d
wonderland,
transfix/d with
ersatz trinKets
n displays of
blips n blinKs of
conspicuous
nothingness,
impertinent
inter-
ruptions melt
sweet sugary
snowflaKes
that hang
on eyelids
liKe diabetes
of the THIRD
i.

bj draKe