Unattainable

Unattainable

Unattainable (1999)

An impossible self help question
will wait
check out
be home

unless you are a fan

of stupid networks. One of the tightest
going nuclear photographs cuts

waste and overlooks ad agency
ethics. To understand more

toast the Broadway stage with
handgun exits, silent designs

before clicking to play
shut the books
cool detachment
self protection

when the Coca Cola intelligentsia

stumble in household income
and brain drain your

favorite photos. Who is
that artist in the break room mirror

found in prison? I have a prop
like yours: a picture with problems.

~/~

This is a “Google poem” — a found poem pieced together from syntax snatches uncovered in Google search results of the word unattainable.

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One thought on “Unattainable

  1. About syntax snatches.

    There’s this great scene in Terry Gilliam’s “The Fisher King” where an off camera voice (possibly Williams’ I can’t remember now) asks a homeless derelict, What do you think of the death penalty?” To which he (the derelict) replies,

    “Death’s definitely a penalty.
    Ain’t no f*cking gift.”

    And given that the term “snatch” is also a coloquilal euphemism for (feminine) genitalia. Well? we all attain to death and taxes (some of us, even the sinful kind).

    There are at least two things we all have in common. The dirt beneath our feet and the longing after something (or someone) we will never, never obtain. Yet, it happens to each and everyone of us — while we waste away in our insufferable longing for what we can never have — some one else comes along and effortlessly takes it on their way to their own unattainable.
    (which might just be indeed the girl you walk with to the schoolbus everyday and is hinting around about the prom).

    So who or what makes something unattainable?
    Maybe the currently local Hoary Thunderer/Cosmic Muffin with a bad case of the “Thou Shalt Nots?
    or maybe “that something we need inside so much” has just got way too much of the deal killer isotope of Unattainium.

    Yours, mine, ours, reality is the personal and agreed upon synaptic interpretation of the holographic flux embedded in the common membrane.

    Everything — all there is — all of it is right there within your grasp.
    It’s just like that kid in the Kissamee commercial — “An’ you can have whatever you want!”

    You need only to suffer the consequences.
    But even that is entirely up to you.
    It’s in the silent design.

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