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The Generosity of Perishable Objects


by Darryl Price


"As soon as you're born, they make you feel small."--John Lennon

I cannot do anything about how 
beautiful you are,  my sour flower, but 
I can tell you this much: Joni Mitchell 
is better than all the cowards in the 
world. They all chose to somehow make you go 
crazy, they even legislated it. 

They've been doing it since you were born.You 
are not crazy. You are you. Truth is a 
jelly donut. Either eat it or throw 
it away. It lasts just as long. I can't do 
anything about how beautiful you 
are, who do you think I am? If and when 

you've got to go, it's not that I don't care. 
That's just something people say when they are 
trying to be cool. Not interested 
in being a label. I cannot do 
anything but remember you. This is 
what I'm feeling now. This is what I'll be 

doing then. But if you think I can do 
anything about whatever you are, 
that is very generous of you. Truth 
is like an apple. Take a bite, but be 
prepared to want more of that later on

when the walls come crashing down/in.  That's a
joke. You've got to laugh. Find someone. I mean
they're still trying to take over the world
in all directions. You are amazing, 
which is something I tend to celebrate.     



Bonus poems:



I'm Lost in this World

by Darryl Price


I'm only looking for a friend. I'm lost in this 
wicked world. It's as strange to me as an alien 
world's landscape in a Batman comic book. I feel like
I should be wearing an oxygen breathing helmet and be 
on the lookout for any local carnivorous plants. But I'm 
only looking for a friend. I swear. I've been here 
before. A long time. How could a friend be 
such a hard thing to find? Maybe it's just because 
nobody wants to be friends with someone who is lost. 
As simple as that. I don't know. If I knew
 
maybe I wouldn't be so lost. But here I am. 
Lost in this world. A world where the people seem 
to get all the love they need from a thing 
called a television. A world where the stale is embraced 
and the fresh is viewed with overall suspicion. I could 
sure use a friend right about now. World where a 
funny joke can get you thrown into an unfunny jail 
cell. Where holding hands, any touching of another human being 
at all, is subject to a bunch of puritanical rules 
that have been manipulated, politicized and reprocessed so many times
 
over that they also end up poisoning the very environment 
of love itself with a self righteous and sickening satisfactory 
licking of the holy shit lips. Even Mick Jagger doesn't 
want that kind of satisfaction. What's left of it. I'm 
definitely lost in this world. Where bookstores are ignored but 
fancy restaurants are crowded beyond capacity. Where music is streamed 
into your crowded gullet without any consideration for the joys 
involved in choosing it for yourself, in an attempt to 
make you feel lethargic and useless to think for yourself. 
And trust your own deepest feelings. The cloud will take
 
care of your every need--for a price--all your 
needn't worries. You just sit back and relax. We got 
you. Meanwhile on the world's stage Notre Dame cathedral's burning 
to death in real time. This cold, cold place where 
the masters are giant machines behind giant buildings that block 
out the sky and belch out the end of the 
kind and generous worlds on a daily basis, all for 
the pleasures of a few Kings and Queens. While the 
rest of us feel lost in their world, friendless and 
expendable. Like tax write offs. Only we're human beings. And 

we have other human beings with us. Children. The sick. 
The poor. The elderly. We have the ancient trees of 
the Earth with us. We have the last butterflies with 
us. We have the moon with us--and she is 
beyond frightened. And we need a friend. Not just any 
friend. But a true friend. Like John was. You know 
anybody? But this place is a sand box where we 
can have all the guns we want, but hospitals and 
schools just aren't in the long run budget for most  
of us. I admit I am a little poet. This 

is what I can offer you while we continue to 
look. A little music. And a little companionship on our 
way to the greatest battle for our souls. But remember 
this. We are not helpless. I brought you to this 
point in the poem only to tell you this. You 
are the friend. For me and for yourself. That is 
the message and the meaning.The magic and the mystery. 
We may feel lost in this world, but that's only 
because we have forgotten something important: as long as we 
are here in any capacity we can change the world. 


Jesus Wept(Happy Easter) by Darryl Price

At the end
of the world
you will 
not belong

to Jesus because
you have made
him into
an idol

when he was 
kind enough to
call you 
his friend.

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