COLLECTION
AN EPIC POEM ABOUT INSIGNIFICANT CRAP
A PROCESSING-THE-CON POEM
HE MADE SOME SPACE
PLACED THE NEW ACQUISITION
INTO HIS COLLECTION
STOOD BACK
LOOKED AT THE COLLECTION
AND FILLED WITH WONDER AND REPULSION
QUESTIONS CRIED IN HIS MIND
WHY DO YOU COLLECT THIS CRAP?
WHEN WILL THE COLLECTION BE COMPLETE?
WHEN CAN WE GET RID OF IT ALL?
WHEN YOU DIE WILL IT ALL BE
DISMANTLED DONATED AND DITCHED?
SOLUTIONS MATERIALIZED
LETS PRETEND WERE MOVING
AND SELL IT ALL OFF
TRADE IT ALL FOR SPACE AND PEACE
PRETEND YOURE ANOTHER PERSON
THE PERSON YOU WISHED YOU WERE
TAKE YOUR FIRST STEP TOWARDS BEING THAT PERSON
AND SLOUGH OFF THE ACCUMULATION OF THE OLD
AT TIMES IT DID SEEM LIKE ANOTHER PERSON
HAD DONE THIS TO HIM
SOME OTHER PERSON HAD STEPPED INTO HIS LIFE
AND COVERED EVERY SURFACE
STUFFED EVERY SHELF AND DRAWER WITH USELESS CRAP
THEN LEFT HIM TO DEAL
WITH THE COLLECTION OF CLUTTER
HE WISHED HE HAD SOMEONE TO BLAME
AS USUAL
THERE WAS ONLY HIMSELF TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
FOR AN IMMENSE COLLECTION OF MISTAKES
EASE UP HE TOLD HIMSELF
SO HE DID
HE HAD SEEN TRUE PACKRATS
AND COULD NOT TAR AND FEATHER HIMSELF
WITH THEIR SYNDROME
HIS COLLECTION WAS WELL DISPLAYED
WELL CARED FOR
HE WAS A NATURAL ARCHIVIST
A MASTER COLLECTOR
AFTER THE SCOLDING HE GAVE HIS INNER CHILD
FOR SPENDING ALL HIS LUNCH MONEY
ALL HIS HOMEWORK TIME
ON BUILDING A CLUBHOUSE
AND FILLING IT WITH DIMESTORE TRINKETS
HE SAT DOWN
PUT HIS INNER KID ON HIS LAP
HELD HIM
AND GAZED IN WONDER
AT THE TREASURES THE KID HAD GATHERED
THE WONDER TOOK HIM AWAY
TOOK HIM TO LIGHT AND DARK PLACES
SPED HIM THROUGH
PAST PRESENT AND FUTURE
HE IMAGINED
THE COLLECTION APPRECIATES IN VALUE
EACH PIECE PRECIOUS AND RARE
MADE IN A WAY NOT MADE ANYMORE
MADE FROM A RESOURCE NOT AVAILABLE ANYMORE
A SINGLE ITEM SOLD
PAYS FOR AN ENTIRE COLLEGE EDUCATION
THE COLLECTOR DOES NOT GLOAT OVER THIS
ONLY A TINY LIGHT FLICKS ON INSIDE
LIKE THE FRIDGE LIGHT IN A NIGHT KITCHEN
THE COLLECTION IS SOLD
AMPLE FUNDS ARE QUIETLY DEPOSITED INTO THE ACCOUNTS OF OFFSPRING
HE IMAGINED
THE COLLECTION IS INHERITED
AN UNSALEABLE BURDEN
AN EXHIBIT FULL OF EVIDENCE
OF A WASTED LIFE
GARBAGE
A CHILD GLARES AT A PARENTS
CHAMBER FULL OF OBSESSION
THINKS OF ALL THE WASTED ENERGY
THAT COULD HAVE BEEN USED
TO HONE A CAREER
TO SAVE A REAL INHERITANCE
TO NOURISH CHILDREN
TO STRENGTHEN HEALTH
TO PRESERVE A MARRIAGE
A GARAGE SALE RIDS THE CHILD
OF SOME OF THE CRAP
A DONATION FREES HIM OF THE REST
BUT THE MEMORIES OF WASTE AND NEGLECT REMAIN
THE COLLECTOR RECALLS
JOSEPH CAMPBELL STATING
FOLLOW YOUR BLISS
THE COLLECTOR DID
OR DID HE JUST FOLLOW INFANTILE WHIMS
TO EMPTY BANK ACCOUNTS
AND CLUTTERED QUARTERS
USING CAMPBELLS WISDOM
AS AN EXCUSE TO INDULGE HIMSELF?
HE IMAGINED
A DISASTER
GOOD PEOPLE LOSE GOOD STUFF
HIS COLLECTION SURVIVES
HE DONATES IT
AND HELPS MANY
GET A BIT BACK OF WHAT THEY LOST
HE THOUGHT
ABOUT HIS CHILDREN
AND HOW HE WAS TEACHING THEM TO BE COLLECTORS
COMPULSIVE SHOPPERS
OBEDIENT CONSUMERS
WOULD THEY BE BURDENED
WITH HIS SAME COLLECTING CURSE?
OR WOULD THEY LEARN HARD
AND RUN IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION?
THIS WOULD SADDEN YET RELIEVE HIM
WOULD TIMES CHANGE
MAKING IT IMPOSSIBLE
OR SOCIALLY IRREDEEMABLE
FOR THEM TO BE AS MATERIALISTIC?
HE IMAGINED
THE COLLECTION TO BE A LIVING THING
IT GREW
IT SHRUNK
IT SHED PARTS
BLOOMED NEW ONES
IT AGED
BUT REMAINED THE SAME
HE IMAGINED
SELLING THE COLLECTION OFF
EVERY BIT OF IT
TILL IT WAS ALL GONE
THEN
POSSESSED BY THE MOMENTUM
HE WOULD BEGIN SELLING EVERYTHING HE HAD EVER OWNED OFF
SELLING AND DONATING
GIVING AND TRASHING
EVERYTHING OFF
MAKING IT HIS ONLY SOURCE OF INCOME
HIS SOLE PURPOSE IN LIFE
UNTIL ALL OF IT
EVEN THE MOST CHERISHED TIGHTLY HELD TREASURE
WAS TOSSED OUT INTO THE VOID
UNTIL IT WAS ONLY HIM
IN AN EMPTY ROOM
WITH AN EMPTY MIND
WITH WHICH HED START EACH DAY
ANEW
HE THOUGHT
ABOUT ALL THE PEOPLE MAKING STUFF TO COLLECT
HOW EVERYONE WANTS TO BE COLLECTED
BUT THERE ARENT ENOUGH COLLECTORS
SO THE COLLECTIBLES
COLLECT IN STORES AND WAREHOUSES
RESIDENCES AND LANDFILLS
UNTIL THOSE AREAS FILL UP
AND COLLECTIBLES BEGIN TO FILL THE GUTTERS
THE SIDEWALKS
THE STREETS
AN OLD LADY WITH A WALKER
STANDS IN THE MIDDLE OF TOWN
KNEE DEEP IN COLLECTIBLES
AND WONDERS WHAT THE F--- IS GOING ON
HE IMAGINED
MAKING IT TO A RIPE OLD AGE
HE HAS ACCEPTED HIMSELF
AND HIS ARCHIVISTS PASSION
HIS ENTIRE LIVING QUARTERS
AND EVERYTHING IN IT
IS NOW
THE COLLECTION
HIS MARRIAGE NOT ONLY SURVIVES THE COLLECTION
BUT FLOURISHES BECAUSE OF IT
THE COLLECTION AND HIS COLLECTING NEED
HAVING SENT HIM AND HIS LOVELY BRIDE
SEARCHING AND ACQUIRING BEAUTIFUL ITEMS
IN EXOTIC LOCALES
ALL OVER THE WORLD
THE LIVING QUARTERS COLLECTION
IS MADE INTO A MUSEUM
TICKETS ARE SOLD
COFFEE IS SERVED
THE WONDER IS SPREAD
HE SMILED AT THAT ONE
OF BEING AN OLD MAN
BENT UP
GREY
PANTS UP TO THE CHEST
BUT STILL LOOKIN SHARP
IN JACKET AND TIE
HAIR PROPERLY COIFFED
WOULD HE BECOME A SHARP OLD MAN
OR AN ECCENTRIC OLD MAN
WEARING VARIOUS PINS AND BUTTONS
ON BRIGHT CAP AND SUSPENDERS
PLAID PANTS
LOUD SNEAKERS
WOULD HIS LOVELY WIFE
STILL BE BY HIS SIDE
OR WOULD SHE HAVE WISED UP BY THEN
HAVING LEARNED AND LEARNED HARD
WHAT HE TRULY WAS
AN ADDICT
HE HAD ALWAYS FELT
SO SUPERIOR TO ADDICTS
THE DRINK AND DRUG KIND
THE GAMBLE AND GLUTTON KIND
ONLY TO DISCOVER HE WAS
THE COLLECT AND CLUTTER KIND
ADDICT
NOT EVEN AN INTERESTING ONE
JUST
GONE TO THE FAIRE
AND
BACK WITH MORE CRAP
OTHER ADDICTS
IF THEY SURVIVED THEIR ADDICTIONS
RETURNED TO SOBRIETY WITH SOUVENIRS
WILD OATS SOWN
SCARS TO SHOW OFF
TALES TO TELL
EVER HEAR ADDICT TALES?
REMEMBER WHEN THOMAS THE SKUNK
PULLED A GUN ON US IN SHANGHAI
SO WE SPED OFF IN THE PURPLE VW RABBIT
WITH TAMMY THE ONE LEGGED PROSTITUTE?
THINK OF EVERY ADDICT WORD WRITTEN BY HUNTER S THOMPSON
WILLIAM BURROUGHS
CHARLES BUKOWSKI
NOT A LOT OF SHOPPING DONE IN THOSE STORIES
THE COLLECTOR REMEMBERED
THE THINGS MISSING FROM HIS COLLECTION
THE THINGS HE HAD LAID EYES UPON BUT DIDNT GRAB
THE THINGS HE HAD HIS HANDS ON
HIS HANDS ON
BUT DIDNT ACQUIRE
THE THINGS HE HAD LOST
WHOSE FAULT
MY FAULT?
HIS COLLECTION APPEARED FULL
BUT HE COULD SEE THE GAPING HOLES IN IT
HE THOUGHT
OF THE WORLDS COLLECTION OF PEOPLE
AND ALL THE PEOPLES COLLECTIONS
IN ALL THE ROOMS OF THE WORLD
AND HOW EVERYBODY COLLECTED DIFFERENT STUFF
BUT EVERYBODY COLLECTED SOMETHING
HE WOKE FROM THE WONDER
LAP EMPTY
MIND STILL
HE STARED AT THE COLLECTION
IT WAS TRASH
IT WAS TREASURE
IT WAS AN ACHIEVEMENT
IT WAS AN ATROCITY
IT WAS TOGETHER TODAY
AND COULD BE SCATTERED
TO THE FOUR CORNERS OF THE EARTH TOMORROW
IT WAS A COLLECTION
OF A THOUSAND PAINS AND PLEASURES
BUT MOSTLY IT JUST WAS
AND IT WAS HIS IMAGINATION
THAT MADE IT A MILLION OTHER THINGS
HIS WONDER CONCLUDED
THE SAME WAY IT ALWAYS DID
WITH THIS
WHEN WOULD THE COLLECTING END?
WHEN WOULD THIS BLAZING FEVER
TO OBTAIN GATHER AND HAVE
FIZZLE AWAY?
WHEN WOULD HIS COLLECTION BE COMPLETE?
THE ANSWER USED TO LURK IN THE DARK AND HIDE FROM HIM
NOW
IT SCAMPERED TO HIS OPEN HAND
THE COLLECTION WAS COMPLETE
AND IT NEVER WOULD BE
THIS NONANSWER USED TO PISS HIM OFF
NOW
HE WAS LESS PISSED
HE LEFT THE COLLECTION
LOCKED THE DOOR
AND WALKED DOWN THE HALL
COLLECTION
AN EPIC POEM ABOUT MEANINGLESS RUBBISH
A PROCESSING-THE-CON POEM
BY HAFJAK DIVIZ
