Tag: self-deprecation

Trivia

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

Somewhere between sustenance
and boredom prevention,
those afflicted with life
must maintain extreme caution
when nurturing trivia,
since there is much at stake
between cellulite treatment
and a game of rummy or table tennis,

yet caught in a coat of my body—
an intentionally uncomfortable
occasional source of agitation—
I could always become sentimental,
which is rather frightening,
though not as much
as questionable considerations
in a world of adjectives
and noughts insisting on writing a memoir
or at least falling in love
while playing youth
despite knowing that I am
just an old man with prejudices,
and only if I get the spelling right.

But all I can do is to be incompetent
so as to preserve the character’s consistency.

If only I knew how to play the piano—
it would make it a hell of a lot easier
to annoy the neighbours.

More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

An emigrant

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

Every time I pass the red pillar box,
a peculiar fettle comes over me
(I wonder what went wrong; after all,
I’ve never been to Camden Town
or Botchergate in Carlisle)—
I’d like a cup of tea. The thing is,
I only drink herbal infusions—
not very British, if I may say so.
Who would have thought I’d break
over Earl Grey?

More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

Disjuncts

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

I have no particular thoughts
on logic, which is logical
since I’m not a scholar—not a smidgen
of salonnière upbringing either—
yet the wainscot brothel in my study
lacks no Montague, or Boole, or Frege.
Ultimately, I could only devote myself
to discovering how many gods died
in a demitasse of mocha.

More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

The tourist

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

I’m not a very interesting specimen,
a hostage to awkward silence
and unforeseen circumstances,
but we don’t invent autobiographies
to live up to them—
this is what guestbooks are for—
and I like the idea of ‘or something’,
and that the most intimate personal detail to reveal
is the taste of blood after biting my tongue.
Also, for someone who doesn’t drink,
I devote a lot of attention to potations
served as a triune chorus of gratitude,
which sounds rather appalling, yet it’s still better
than some unfortunate magnanimity of intention—
the mother of all exhaustion in both,
regardless of whether I prefer to be situated
in Beatrice’s basement or Virgil’s attic.

More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

A space filler

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

What was the last thing you remember
before you died? I was signing my book,
but I can’t recall if it was as MacCallus
or Modzelewski. It doesn’t matter—
they’re both equally ridiculous—
just like signing a book
I never published.

More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

A memorable morning

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

As a humble word toiler, I never appreciate
the celestial knocker-upper waking me up earlier than usual,
yet today I lifted my eyelids in a somewhat brighter mood—
a spiritual shift or a simple fluke, I wonder.

There was nothing surprising in what came after:
the negligent ablutions, the changing of garments, a dash of yoga
after meditation on the throne, and the light breakfast preparation
to get the energy to read the young Bloomsberries.

There was also a pot of goulash that I had prepared
the previous evening and left to cool overnight so I could portion it
into heat-resistant glass containers and put in the freezer as dinners
for the whole week because I really hate cooking.

[then the hand on the keyboard froze for a while]

I’ve been able to give only a personal account
of the events that transpired that fine morning, but nonetheless
they will prove themselves worthy of the annals, if only for this
rather tottery verse, with one caveat, though—

I must ascend to the pantheon.

More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

A penman

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

As a discreet couch dweller,
keenly collecting calloused complements,
I have long found this protracted writers’ retreat—
or, as others call it, life—a rather daunting experience,
yet a certain sense of entitlement, albeit an off-putting one,
is to be expected in the heights of the Anthropocene,
with all those inflated egos and hopes
born amongst orphans in the making—
of which I am one.

More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

Aspirations

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

While I linger on the dwarf wall
at the corner of Union Street and Back Wynd,
leaning against a column with an Ionic capital,
I can’t help but detest the posthumous fame
of the man who wrote a book of short verses
with ponderous sentences full of yestermorrow
aspirations that I’m about to compose.