Seemingly inspirational,
apparitions
of the unconscious mind,
perhaps signals
of inherited and
unrealized (realized?)
intelligence,
tucked away
in the serendipity
and the anxiety
of conscious acknowledgement
of finite existence.
 
Your solemn eyes betray your intelligence.
 
Where do the words come from,
and how did we manage
to make them
translate meaning?
Is it imbued with
inherent reliability?
Or are we sincerely
just winging it…
a wise old soul
of a friend of mine
was enthused…
in idle chatter no less…
“Everyone’s a bull-shitter.”
he said.
 
And to that end,
I do solemnly agree.
The anthologies of writers
and philosophers
and professors
and artists…
are they not all
trimmed in such a way
as to manipulate
our perception of them?
Their identity is edited,
to hide their deplorable humanity
under the aura
of professional intellectuality.
Soi-disant! Aha!
The fancy resume
is all that is left behind…
 
That is
the real genius.

(2015)

Poetry, Free-Verse, Identity, Resume, Words

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Parker Jennings
almost 4 years

Thanks. Man, I got really carried away with my vocabulary in this one

Delilah
almost 4 years

Really enjoyed it xxxx Awesome! :)

Delilah
almost 4 years

Really enjoyed it xxxx Awesome! :)

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