“Metaphysical Realism”

Talk to assuage the guilt
Feign to answer questions
Our lips move
Our hearts stirred.
By some transcendent necessity to explain the why
We plot
We plan
We put tuxes on corpses while formaldehyde fills their veins
Mimicking life.

We give detailed reasons to the unsolvable problems, and
Think that talking will make it disappear into ethereal unworthiness
To have to contemplate no more
He’s a muslim. She’s a jew. They’re the christians. He’s just a buddhist. She’s just a hindu. They’re all just haters and atheists and agnostics and democrats and republicans and tories and royalists and tribalists and parochial and small-minded and narrow-minded and. . .
relegated to meaningless.
Identified by a banner than by an image that stares us in the face
They’re answers mean nothing to the high-minded (and high-browed) metaphysical questions we have humbled ourselves before. The mighty towers of alabaster and granite and powers that be. The unknowable that we have erected as known and dissected.

Disregard their embrace of the
Wilting paralytic
and the embryonic malnourished
and the frightening plague
of ignorance and fear and the academy.
Disregard the blood they have spilt and the ulcers they’ve endured
For not rhetorical worry, but real worry.
Real concern for the real flesh and the real blood
that covers their face.

Go on and plot and plan and answer and postulate
Stay on your high-browed and high-minded cloud in the sky
We’ll give our lives and sweat and worry and flesh and blood
You stay up there and pontificate why we’re all useless and vain and proud.
Look down from your perches and tell us we’re stupid and not thinkers and not lovers of wisdom
We’ll figure out a way to reset this leg
to stop this violence
to bind up the brokenhearted
to free the captives–
Lay down our lives to provide the answer you seek.