Human Folly
I overcompensate
for my inability
to conform
or control
the outcome
of my income
and then I overreact
when time contracts
and space gives me flack
for not throwing myself
into my work
or for failing
to play the role
my soul
just cannot
go on faking
all the while
making a fuss
when someone
throws me under
the bus in public
for saying
what was on
someone else's mind
guess I'm just a spy
on my own mind's eye
who will soon be
made obsolete
by a bot or AI
Fade Out
The ending
has begun
the winding down
of fun in the sun
the side glances
from those
in the throes
of actual romances
while the factual
is all practical
as you spot
some random rapture
while being put
out to pasture
all because
there's no pride
in lousy posture
and posterity
is about all you'll
get from eternity
while women
invent time
all over again
with their maternity
you make
the grave mistake
of sleeping
through your
very own wake
Dear Reality
Universe
is this the best
that you can do?
the grey or blue above
the oh-so-predictable
rinse and repeat
cycles of love
the wonderful
or terrible variables
of the tumble dry
wrinkle-free cloak
of these dimensions
that surround us like
theatre curtains
opening and closing
on this three-act play
where everyone is
either Hamlet
or Juliet
while feeling
more like Ophelia
floating on the
river of ripples
or tidal waves
and yet within
this tsunami
I continue to create
the tiny word origami
made of carefully
folded words
simply known
as poetry
Iconic Romantic
I remember
when the lungs
of laughter
collapsed
like a star-struck
heart broken fan
of a celebrity
who was cancelled
over a scandal
involving semantics
and all that frantic
hullabaloo
was a helluva
time for fame
and fortunately
I learned to smile
again without the aid
of pharmaceuticals
knowing that depression
is simply seasonal
while coincidentally
I found love
could be reciprocal
and no longer
had the need
to be cynical
or down
since a heart's
pitter pat
is the cyclical
pacemaker
which makes
the world
go round
Love Bug
I'm a grifter
smitten
by the spontaneous
combustion
of seeing you
in tight leather
and your spiked heels
give me all sorts
of feels
because you steal
every scrap
of dignity
from me
a guy
who gets by
like a fly
on the wall
whose buzz
is really
all he's got
and this unflappable
energy
will always be
too fast
to swat
Gut Reaction
I often
second guess
my first hunch
while mistrusting
my intuition
when I am in
a compromising
position or an awkward
situation where everything
feels like an imposition
yet I never let 'em see
me sweat tears
nor do I show my years
instead I play numb
and cop a plea
deal with the cards
I'm dealt
and then I bluff
in the buff
while feeling
really round
like a Mr. Potato
when the chips
are down
Ivan Jenson is a fine artist, novelist and popular contemporary poet who lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
His artwork was featured in Art in America, Art News, and Interview Magazine and has sold at auction at Christie’s. Amongst Ivan’s commissions are the final portrait of the late Malcolm Forbes and a painting titled “Absolut Jenson” for Absolut Vodka’s national ad campaign. His Absolut paintings are in the collection of the Spritmuseum, the museum of spirits in Stockholm, Sweden. Jenson’s painting of the “Marlboro Man” was collected by the Philip Morris corporation.
His novels, Dead Artist and Seeing Soriah, illustrate the creative, often dramatic lives of artists. Jenson’s poetry is widely published (with over 1000 poems published in the US, UK and Europe) in a variety of literary media. He has published a poetry book, Media Child and Other Poems, and two novels, Marketing Mia and Erotic Rights.
Mundane Miracles, his critically acclaimed poetry collection, hit number 1 on Amazon in American Poetry.
Ivan Jenson’s website: www.ivanjenson.com
Twitter: @IvanJenson
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