Pick
The puzzle
The optimal start up speed
The world is spinning around
The why is so pertinent
The where is so evident
These are the things we know
So I went down below
I mediated the earth’s core
I asked the time travellers for more
The culture we adore
Those who adore the messages from the past of VHS
The best man’s hairy chest
The father in your arms doing his best
These are the things I tested
To see if I could stay seated when the violence was no more pacifist
Clench
Yogic retention
Imbalance and detention
Partition of special relationship
Llamas in the Whore House
Green Berets through the front door.
I reaped the remeberance of an Oxford Degree
I forgot my mother (again) to avoid misreading the Church as S.P.

Choose
And I am undone
The choice is too fast for thought that is ruined
It’s the same for us all
Special people being strange in a normal world broken by Buddha’s mirrors
Mental health adrift the tides of life lived by fine people
Directors dealing with the ladders some people don’t climb
Most people don’t climb these corporate ladders.

Then
How? I asked [poetically]…
Are we supposed to talk?

AI Summary

It’s a poem about the difficulty of choosing a path in a world that spins too fast, where the speaker dives into transcendence, memory, VHS nostalgia, family echoes, yogic strain, and the weight of spiritual and cultural expectations, only to find himself overwhelmed by the speed of thought and the strangeness of being “special” in a world built for ordinary ladders; the poem moves from earth’s core to Oxford, from Gurdwaras to gurus, from violence to pacifism, from identity to exhaustion, ending with the simple, human question of how people are meant to speak to one another when the inner world is so dense and the outer world so unforgiving.