Poem #237 - This poem is a reflection on what it means to escape the matrix with friends.
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Joshua Brown
I'm not here to be your dad.
I want kids of my own and I don't have time to sit around teaching you how to love yourself.
I have kids of my own who I don't want to grow up in a world seeing their dad be powerless and defeated.
I'm not here to be your coach.
If the world needed more coaches, it would have asked me outright.
I wonder if I need to tear apart my skin and throw it into the wind to sail away from vagueness.
I'm not here to be your pincushion
I want to fly beyond the reach of the planet's grasp and build a new self called BE
ME BE ME BE
I'm not here to be your spank bank
I have an intentionality to my self defenses and so far I've fucking tacked out
And when they see what is possible, what other's have acheived,
They will be inspired.
Row
Row
Row
Build a fucking boat and row till you get out of the current
The gravitation that drags you back to protect your abusers
Because you're fucking smart:
Your abusers could kill you when you were a kid
But now
Fucking row and row like hell.
Send the sails, stop the sails, send the sails,
Tack and weave.
Keep pivoting until you fucking prove to the animals
The dregs of the 20th century
Those who would threaten abandonment
To protect their own sorry asses
That I will not be kept silent
That I will float a floatilla
Crusading against the enemy of Good
And inspiring entirely new generations
To live by reason, for reason, with reason
Against the Gods.
#poem #poetry #relationships #codependence #power #family #fatherhood
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📅 Written April 9, 2026
📍 Written in Denver, Colorado at the Denver International Airport
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I'm frustrated. That doesn't mean anything in particular. Especially against you, the reader. But I have to tell you, if thousands of people are using my writings to sit in their air conditioned aparments and generate erotica to masturbate to so that the human lineage ends in a whimpering state of silent sexual satisfation and I don't even get a small thanks from one of you...
Fuck.
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a Joshua Brown poem #237 "Good v God"
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