John Frum

Cascade
is always a catchy word to start off with
When you don't know where to begin.
This has been the toughest stretch of my life
Since Grandpa passed
16 years ago
My family still hurts
The way a cut that is tightly bound by stitch
From an untrained clinical fellow or resident doctor
Hurts
Any sort of twitch, any sort of movement
Upsets a very delicate and fragile truce.
You see, I want to bring people together
I do my best
And words said in anger to me
They live with me
They find cracks in my hard shell
And they wear me down
And in my darkest moment of each day
They whisper to me...
"pssst...remember?
I cut you down."

So, look what I've made
A mess of debt, angst,
And doubt
I use the word fool most every day
To describe myself and my actions
And my idea
That I might join the rest of the world
in the middle.

Despite what I let on,
I didn't choose this life
And the way I am
The way I am incapable of acting in a bold, deliberate way
It chose me
And I long for the days from two years ago
Where there was  no lonely, no longing, no frustration
Just naive belief that I could conquer the city
One borough at a time

I send this out to others hurting tonight -
Your life has worth, even now.
Every moment you feel like this
Is a moment you will be overcome with joy
We all get redeemed
Like Jack Sheppard
Like John Locke
And you will, too
Take solace in knowing that, just as in good times,
Everything in the world dies
And unless we know the night
We can never appreciate the sun
Very few things transcend the duality of this world
And this is just your time in the barrel

I swore off dating and anything relating to romance yesterday
The last year have been quite enough.
When I see a woman on the train, or in the street, or wherever
I have a moment where I check them out
And then I immediately remove myself,
Blur my eyes on purpose
And move on.
No more.
It is not for me.
My life is surrounded by love
From my Mom and Dad
Dear friends, and other family
I will always strive to be a good man,
Brother, Son, Friend, and someday Uncle

John Frum is a god for the people
Of an island nation outside of Australia
The natives there believe he
Portrayed as a black US Serviceman
Will return one day,
Much in the same way
The US Armed Forces were present in WW II,
To deliver the precious cargo by airplane
From the heavens
And lead them to a heaven-on-earth kind of place
They believe he lives in the island Volcano
And they throw a parade for him every year
Hoping for his return
They try to replicate the same conditions
That brought the cargo to them last time:
Paint "USA" on their chests
Build airfields
Wooden air traffic control towers
Wooden radio headsets
Wires with no signals running through them
Red Cross symbols everywhere
To replicate the things in place
From the last USA occupation
So one day, John Frum would return
Bring precious cargo
And fix all their problems.

I guess that's how I viewed love.
Where my mind
Cherry-picks evidence
To support a desired outcome
For them, it was easier to believe that the control towers
Headsets, and runways were the cause
Of cargo-carrying airplanes rather than an effect
So they closed their minds to alternative explanations
For me
It's easier to believe that something is wrong with me
That my overweight body is so astoundingly pervasive
On women
That they couldn't possibly want to be seen with me
Or that I come on too strong,
That I am not funny enough,
Quick enough,
Too detached, or too engaged
Depending on how it turns out.
I use the conclusion to somehow go back
And explain the events leading up to it
And reject rational things
Like lack of chemistry
Pre-existing friendships
Or, GOD FORBID,
Another perfectly likeable person
Who happens to be a better fit.
So John Frum to me
Is some beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent woman
Who accepts absolutely everything about me
Rejects none of me
And understands all the little ins and outs
Of my strange mind
That has been flying solo for the last 9 years
She desires me
And she meets every single little expectation I have
Like never criticizing me,
Adoring my music,
And still allowing me
To criticize her (out of love!!!)
And to be darkly humorous
And most importantly,
She can be all this after maybe 5-7 dates.

So here I am,
Waiting for heavenly cargo
In the form of a woman
And realizing
That my time is better spent
than waiting for John Frum
I reject the fake airstrips
The fake control towers
And I remove my wooden headset
And I go back to work,
Excited for you all to hear my greatest work to-date
My opus
"Ophelia"
In all it's might
And all it's sensitivity
And pray that it moves you
To turn towards yourself
To live well
And to stop waiting for volcanos
To shoot out someone to fix everything.