Tag Archives: the Contrary

Contrary III

If I’m ever given another name,
if they ever do fix the world,
I’ll be “Tony Wow-I-Got-That-Wrong.”
(I hope I get that one.)

If the activists ever make a difference,
“Tony Sad Old Bitterface.”  If they don’t,
“Tony I-Wish-I-Didn’t-Have-To-Say-It-
But-I-Told-You-So.”

I am “Tony Do-You-Think-I-Asked-
For-This-Role?”  I am assigned to
the dark chatter;
every people needs one. I am also

“Tony Longs To Fit In.”
I’m not happy to have to be this,
but it’s what I was given.  It’s
“Tony Afraid Of Smiling,” “Tony

Fucking Grump,” “Tony
Not With The Program.”
In fact, I’m “Tony Contrary.”
I don’t care what you say, I’m

officially, sacredly, not that.  The popular response,
of course, is to pull optimism
close and keep it away from me.
Good, because that’s the nature

of the job.  You like to say
hey, we’re all responsible for our own
happiness, we’re all allowed that,
a negative attitude is its own punishment —

wrong.  That’s just wrong.
I’m responsible for your happiness
and my negative attitude is your reward.
Everyone needs the dark chatter,

though no one will acknowledge it…Long ago
I had the dream of the thunderbird
and the clap of his stone wings
has muffled my ears to the brightness.

Carried this name, “Tony-Not-Ready-To-Agree,”
ever since…You go ahead and critique this,
you pursuit of happiness junkies, you perpetual
chasers of the perfect wave; it’s not like

I don’t understand or even want to be like you —
I do.  That’s part of the role; you yearn for a new name
even as you’re living up to your own.
I’m your backside to the mirror, call me

“Tony Blockhead,” “Tony Virus,”
“Tony Everything-You-Don’t-Want-To-Hear.”
It doesn’t matter what is and is not true.
Someone has to say these things.  Someone

has to test the rule.


Contrary’s Dog Food Manifesto

Contrary says,
stop
making poems.

Try, says Contrary,
making dog food
instead.

Dogs will show you if
they love your work,
unlike your poet friends.

Unlike poets, dogs don’t make what they need
to live.   They’ll
appreciate you more

than poets will. 
You will like making dog food
more than making poems

because of dog’s love.
Poets get jealous,
don’t eat your work up

even if you leave it out for them.
Even if they’re hungry.
Fuck all poets, says Contrary.

Fuck them.  Fuck them
more than dogs.  Poets
won’t fuck you either

except figuratively.
That’s all poets
know how to do,  useless

people.  Make dog food
instead. 
Find your audience.

Dog food,
incidentally,
smells better too.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

Heyoka

It’s my job
My job

Is to be
Backwards

Eat a big can of dog food
with a picture of a puppy on the label
Tell everyone that puppy tasted good

Put on my shoes and socks in that order

Go outside nude in the rain
with a soap bar and a loofah
Tell everyone I’m Gene Kelly

My job
Is to be Gene Kelly

Get you laughing at me
Make you say “he’s crazy”
I’m your umbrella man
Taking the pissing sky to be my friend
so you can stay dry
and love the daffy anyway

Gene Kelly wasn’t crazy
But he kept singing
Gotta dance

In the old days
the Lakota called us heyoka
Contrary boys
Thunderbird dreamers stuck
with wings on the brain
all day and night
We heard them and we were cursed
To test the rules
Piss people off

Keep the kids away from them
they used to say
but they knew they needed us
because we let them sleep
Secure that the world
only gave the worst dreams
to some
and most people could follow the rules
and be safe at night

I have a dream that one day
I’ll be able to sleep

You think it’s easy to be Gene Kelly?

You better be glad I’m here
I’m the only thing
making you look sane
These days
You don’t know how to dance
Don’t know shit about the taste of food
Don’t know dope from hope
The noise of wings
from the song of your frightened hearts

Gene Kelly could smile when he danced his pain
And you loved to watch
You still watch though he’s been gone for so long

But I am not Gene Kelly
Not really
I’d be better off flatfooted
Stalking a living like you do
I want the easy chair
and the nights by the TV
Stop the damn wings and let me be

Till then I’ll keep at it
Laughing as I show you up
You wish you had the naked need’
to jump around out here
Cold and wet but not caring for once
about the way you looked
as long as it was you doing it
and not the mask you are becoming

You secretly wish you were Gene Kelly
No secrets here
I wish you were too