I sometimes start my poems with the words,
“In a world”
is the first thing that comes to me.
Because really, “In a world”
has so many places you can go. It says,

In a world of chaos,
there is a certain sweetness in the calm of a silent storm.

In a world of drama,
there are the Good Will Hunters
and the Good Will Hunting.
There are the Shakespeares
and the “It’s not your faults,
Will, It’s not your Fault.”
Both hold up.

In a world of comedy,
there are the laughing stocks
In a world of democracy,
there are the gun shots.
In a world of capitalism,
there is the anarchist.
In a world of devils there is the Eucharist.

In a world of nonsense,
there is the Theory of Everything.
In a world of deli slices,
there are sandwich thins.

In the world of books,
there’s the Bible
and Tools of Titans, both books written
looking at things different,
with a whole lot of people saying
a whole lot of things.

In a song like “Bohemian Rhapsody,”
there is the silence of piano keys
and the manic screams of Freddie Mercury,
the crescendo of the chorus,
the broken-down ballad, the thunderous lyrics
begging for forgiveness.

In a world of Freddie Mercury and John Lennon,
there is silence.

But in this world, there is so much
that “In a world” can not contain.
It’s a beautiful sentence
’cause there is so much “In a world.”

There is dancing, there are bears
and there are dancing bears
and there are apples and pears
and Hip Hop aficionados
and there are pianos in basements
and there are bullets, everywhere.

There are macros, in edits,
of poems sitting in solitaire.
There is a medicine withdrawal in my system
and chaos lying dormant
like a lioness, or a society of guns
when it’s really the police
that need re-education.
To bring community peace, we need
to police the police, teach CIT, with positivity,
by building up our Mental Health Community,
understanding schizophrenia.

Listened to a Dead Kennedy
speak the words of Wisdom from his complex.
Not a message complex, but straight like a bullet to the head.

And In a World
where fresh fruit lie with rotten vegetables,
we habitually kill the poor.

And in a world,
n this world.
there is so much beauty that outweighs the ugly.
So much blood pulsing through our collective bodies.
So much energy to fix it all, if we want to.

So, in a world of me, and you, us and them,
they and us, him and her,
black and white,
rich and poor,
democrat and republican,
advocates, lobbyists, protests, and car bombs,
flags half mast,
flags half stand,
McDonalds fries and shakes
and lullabies,

in a world of bullets and macros,
pens and camera lenses,
freaks and geeks and Apatows,
in Pleasantvilles, Good Will Huntings, and Amityvilles,
in Shawshanks, Wonderlands and magicians,
in environmentalism and advocacy,
in beauty and tragedy,
in libraries and museums,
in communism and taxes and shell-shocked veterans,
in broken watches and neighborhood watches,
in people frustrated and lakes man made,
in man-made slaves and trafficked kids,
in being a kid, and being fucking trafficked,
what America, are you going to do,
in this world, in this world…

In this world of bombs,
Napalm Death and Psalms,
in a world,
in a world of grass being grown,
rice being thrown, babies being born,
idealists, and nihilists,
we are not going to save it all in a day.
But In a world, our world,

you have a chance
while your breath effortlessly exhales
from your lungs,
while your eyes are open for sixteen
and closed for eight
to open again
with fresh lens.
To get the fucking pen moving.
Or lose weight, or plant a tree.
Sign a petition.
Change the fucking frequency.

What are you going to do
in this world?


Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home will be available soon.