Populist Elegance. William E. Scholz

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      Because I'm not beautiful enough,

      And this poem is everything ugly,

      And I'm ugly.

      So I'll write it through a medium,

      My penpal or typist,

      Who has strength,

      To bare my soul,

      And offer me forgiveness,

      For my cowardice and my disease.

      I will never get plastic surgery again, but I need a nose job.

      I will never get plastic surgery, but I feel so fat.

      I will never get plastic surgery again, but I have an appointment next Tuesday.

      Brother And Sister, Sister And Brother

      Have I seen these breadlines before?

      Have I felt the hunger pains?

      I'm lost and out of time.

      This is much more than the cliché,

      "Those that don't learn history,

      Are doomed to repeat it."

      This is a failure of our world

      To overcome the current age.

      We just can't seem to escape our past.

      We are living half in the past

      If the same things keep happening to us.

      Like the past is overlaid onto the future

      And the present is something that we're not fully aware of.

      Have I seen the unemployment numbers before,

      Or the market crash?

      Because it feels like I have.

      And here are my visions:

      I see two children ripped apart,

      Reaching out for one another,

      Ever trying to touch their fingernails together,

      Were they brother and sister?

      Did the coronavirus destroy families like the Black Plague?

      Is present past sister and present future brother

      Like the past and future participle of a poorly constructed verse?

      Does time have an ending and a beginning as if past and future are connected by a string,

      Feeding back information and scenarios to each other until finally brother and sister meet?

      That's a long question,

      So I'll say it more simply:

      Can we ever escape Time?

      I mean truly escape Time.

      Can history ever stop repeating its tragedy?

      The breadlines are growing now,

      And pretty soon comes war,

      And we are all just playing roles,

      So we all see it coming from a mile away,

      But nobody had the role to stop it all.

      Is there one among us who can

      Take scissors to the threads that link

      Past and future?

      Maybe our souls in the present are seeking our souls from the past,

      And that's why humans can never escape?

      Let's take scissors to our past reincarnations,

      And finally step off the wheel of time,

      But first we must give up our roles,

      And we all need a fresh start.

      The Synchronicity Of Thought III

      We're sharing a mind,

      And all thoughts stored inside,

      The good, the bad, the ugly,

      And we have some ugly!

      Did you remember where you were on the 17th?

      I don't, but I do.

      Who thought it first?

      Impossible to know for sure,

      But we just know.

      We use descriptors for the vision impaired.

      Do you remember that one time?

      I remember before you do,

      And you don't seem to mind,

      But when it happens to me,

      I feel exposed, vulnerable, and afraid.

      You know all my secrets,

      The ones that you didn't want to know.

      But I want to see it all,

      And you don't seem to mind.

      We're nosy like that.

      Let's leave this world for the Infinite,

      Let our minds touch in outer space,

      Let's achieve something together,

      Let's reinvent the human race.

      We are everything but synchronized,

      We are out of time, our bodies,

      And horrifyingly out of our minds.

      We're just one breath away from scribbling on a wall somewhere.

      TaiChi Shogun Masters,

      Qabalah code crackers,

      Buddhist monks in the never found Temple,

      Arjuna, as one, hearing voices both mad and profound.

      "Effect without a cause

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