Leopold McGinnis is an independent Canadian author/poet and literary activist. He is the founding editor of www.redfez.net, an online digizine devoted to publishing under-recognized and under-published authors, as well as the author of a novel, Game Quest, and two novellas, The Red Fez and Bad Attitude (coming Fall 2007). His first word ever was 'no' and he grew his first full beard in grade 10.
*The most dangerous thing in the universe*
The most dangerous thing in the universe!
They put it on display
Behind a glass case.
As if glass could hold it back!
The most dangerous thing in the universe!
You know the glass was put there
to keep the people out
(as if glass could hold them back!)
But let’s be realistic, friends…
For who could control
The most dangerous thing in the universe?
The arrogance!
of professors
the musclemen scientists
the power suited politicians
Galaxy-wide
to believe
that they had mastered it
Why, they had labelled it!
Set it on a shelf!
Encased it in a glass case
itself encased in a museam
in the prefecture of the mayor
under the jurisdiction
of the premier, then the president
then the galactic council!
They gave speeches of great
authority on the subject!
Knew every aspect of its inner workings:
Where it came from!
Its mother’s maiden name!
If that wasn’t control
then what was?
But there was one glaring omission:
If they could control
the most dangerous thing in the universe
would they not be instead the most dangerous?
But still the tag remains
on the case.
The most dangerous thing in the universe!
Merely sleeps on its perch
Allowing the throng of dispassionate sceptics
Road-side tourists and self-appointed experts
To peer through and pass judgement
The most dangerous thing in the universe!
Merely sleeps, waits behind the glass
for the moment of peak hypocrisy
critical self-delusional mass!
The most dangerous thing in the universe, friends!
hunches down for a nap in the spotlight
until someday it decides
to become dangerous again.
Wait for it, friends…
Wait for it…
*In pursuit of happiness*
It was a relay race
Where you were always behind
And you thought
You were carrying the biggest
Baton of all
Around and around in circles
Trailing in the dust
Of other people’s self-assurance
In a moment of despair
You broke from the ring
And carried your baton over the hill
Leaving the referee’s whistle
Calling foul, cancelling the game
Behind you
Running into the heat of the afternoon
as the other runners stopped
And watched you fade into the distance
Creating your own game
And running at the head of it
Carrying that baton wherever the fuck
You wanted to.
Creating a game with no whistles
No competitors
And no losing.
Running off
In pursuit of happiness.
Last update : 05-06-2007 16:18
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