"The Clarity Of Polarity"

“The Clarity Of Polarity”


They call you senseless
because you choose to sense less.
As soon as problems arise,
You elect to desensitize.
You could have more
Than what you think is in store;
But disdain seeps through your pores.
You’ve lost the hunger for more;
Yet you have the very nerve
To let your point of view curve
As you ridicule us openly
For chasing what we deserve.


You call us a bunch of fools
For not playing by your rules.
Please lose that bully mantra.
We’re no longer in grade school.
Catch back is for the birds.
No revenge needed for these nerds.
You probably can’t pronounce our words;
So just act like you never heard.
How dare you call us absurd?
How are our views unrealistic?
We understand how real life is.
We aren’t just schematics and statistics.


You can’t denounce our possibilities
Because we are inclined to probability.
You can’t deem us a nuisance
Because you can’t read our blueprints.
I’m not all that spectacular:
I have a bit of a vernacular,
A small circle of friends
And no real desire for trends.
I won’t lord over you
Or make you want to go off;
But since you want to be right,
Let me take the time to show off:


“Your criticism is like catechism:
You act like you’ve been instructed
To demolish what we’ve constructed
Like a voracious ensemble conducted
By the subliminal and timid:
So ignorant and insipid
Yet brimming with enough ambition
To try and purge our lipids;
But we will not dissolve.
You chose not to evolve.
No scathing will be exacted
Because you decided to be vapid.
Our views will not be understated,
Trounced upon or degraded
In the name of those
Who call us flashy or over rated.
Now is that nasty?
Does it taste like bile?
Is it bitter and vile?
Then just put down the vial,
Place yourself on a new excursion,
Search for a new destination,
Submerge yourself in subconscious immersion;
And engage in some meditation.”


I’ve no honest need or want
To figure out your motivation
When it comes to your loathing
For our love of dissertation.
To be brutally honest,
You really don’t know how to act.
Your convictions are groundless
And they lack substantial tact.
All are inclined to their decisions;
Whether they are loose or exact.
You can shape your own opinion;
But you cannot alter fact;


And the fact is plain to see
Behind that cloak of secrecy.
You may judge us openly;
But you hate yourself more than me.
You wish that you could listen.
You wish that it was different;
But you can’t accept what’s given
Neither can you dismiss it.
You will never find help
Because you don’t like yourself.
Instead of owning your flaws,
You hide them high on that shelf.


The need to be
Must not include we.
Solitary is he.
Singularity is she.
I can never be you.
You shouldn’t want to be me.
Remove those shades and see
What it’s like to be free.
Learn to celebrate individuality.
Refine your route of persistence.
Stop trying to keep your distance.
Just be grateful for your existence.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"52 Pickup: Struggling To Shuffle"

"52 Pickup: Struggling To Shuffle"

From solitaire; trapped with spiders
to being freed from a cell
that was called a free cell
that was intended to bridge hearts;
but it was an engine of destruction
that just tore hearts apart;
but where did this start?
All have played their part;
but have disclosed no purpose yet.
There are bruises on your neck.
Who brought this three pack set?
Did you purchase this deck?

What a mess you've made:
You cut yourself with this blade.
You seem surprised to see it fade.
Did I just call a spade a spade?
I've never been a jack of all.
I just know when to back off.
You say I have no balls;
but you'd likely watch me jack off.
I understand it, though:
You sit there and play roles
and hope that everyone thinks
you have an ace in the hole;
but the world might wonder
about those fluctuating numbers.
An ace has no ruler.
You are bound to slip under.

So damn fresh on the scene.
Pressed permanent and clean;
cutting the deck to cut a check;
working hard to be a queen;
but is it really mean
when the one outlined as king
would rather go out on flings
than present you with a ring?
But hey; what do I know?
I can't recall or remember when.
I just greet this life again
and work hard from 2 to 10.
I'm years removed from the yard.
I look after my own cattle;
but I'm full of trump cards;
so I'd advise against a battle.

Love doesn't fade, barber.
It just hates being tapered.
Don't blame mother and father.
You determine your own behavior.
You've done yourself no favors:
You take part in distasteful labor,
insist that we become your neighbors
and foolishly wait to be savored.
You climb to crash through ceilings.
Those paper cuts are like glass shards.
You love to chase that feeling.
Keep sprucing up that house of cards.
Go on honey. Make it hard.
Cry about your self implied struggle.
Scarlet Harlot. Take your tumble.
Bleed butt naked in your puddle.

Build it high before it crumbles.
Speak no words. Don't even mumble;
or those walls will flail and fumble
as you flatly refuse to be humble.
Tell yourself that it's okay.
Feed the neighbors charm and wit.
Boast about three of a kind
then call your own bullshit.
Don't dare forget to go fish.
Old maids find water to wade in.
Play whichever card you wish.
You probably wish you stayed in.
Such an unstable full house
is suited for a royal flush.
Possessing a jack, hoping for an ace;
better stand or you might bust.

You love to claim victory;
but where does your win go
when you remain open like windows
and panic whenever the wind blows?
Who would dare to claim respect
when dashing their own intellect?
We feel no residual effects;
so what are you trying to project?
If you inspect your deck,
You'll come across two jokers.
One fool is multicolored.
The other is dulled over.
Which one are you today?
Take some time. Mull it over.
You say you don't wanna play;
but the games are never over.

Yeah I know: You "could care less."
Tell that to your fits of stress.
Pick up the cards before you go.
I'm not picking up your mess.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz