WHAT MAKES ME HAPPY

WHAT MAKES ME HAPPY
by matt burns

I sit up late
Drinking beer
And listening to RUSH
And I think about what really makes me happy
Because that’s what the spiritual therapist said to do
I’m supposed to arrive at this conclusion
But I’m having trouble

At first I think about strip clubs
I am genuinely always happy there
But I know the happiness is short-lived
The next day, I’m empty

And then I think about writing
I’ve been doing a ton of that
Tons and tons and tons
But no matter how much I do
I never really achieve any state of lasting happiness
Or even a sense of accomplishment, come to think of it

Maybe if I finally get rewarded for my writing
With recognition
And money
But I’ve never received a penny for my writing before
So I don’t know if that would make me happy
And whether the happiness would last much longer than at the strip club
So it’s all hypothetical
And exists in a potential future that may never manifest
I may NEVER get paid for my writing
So happiness needs to come from some place else

But I don’t know where
I really don’t

What I do know
Is that sitting here
Up late
Trying to think about what makes me happy
Racking my brain
Does not make me happy
In fact, I’m much more unhappy
Sitting here
Drinking
Stressing my brain
Thinking that I’m supposed to figure this out
And keep coming up dry

So I don’t know what makes me happy
And I think that’s fine for now
I do not know
What beautiful words
I…do…not…know

Eureka!
The devil hath taken on a new guise
That of a positive psychologist
A spiritual guru therapist
Telling me to go and meditate
And figure out what makes me happy
Knowing full well
That I will stress
And rack my brain
And be convinced my unhappiness is all my fault
And I'll hate myself for not identifying what makes me happy
And that clever devil will laugh knowing he made me worse off in the end

Tip of the hat to you, O DEVIL!
You hath tricked me again!
Nothing but reverence I give to you!
Once again
I am in awe of your tricky
Clever
Ways!

Yes, the irony
Sitting here stressing over what makes me happy
Thinking the answer must be so simple
But not getting anywhere with the answer
Has made me all the more unhappy
Brilliant, devil!

So what really makes me happy?
Not sitting here
Busting my brain
Thinking I should know what makes me happy

What makes me happy
Is knowing that I do not know
And it's ok not to know
That's what makes me happy

Be gone, devil!

FIVE NEW POEMS!

TWO MIDDLE FINGERS HIGH UP IN THE AIR

by matt burns

Hello world

You have been hostile towards me lately

No, that’s not true

I’m drunk

And angry

And negative

Sometimes you just want to

Put two of your middle fingers up in the air

Flip off the universe

And God

But it’s not really how I feel

I don’t mean it

I’m cool with yall

Sorry

This poem is incoherent

I’m drunk

I admit

This is the first poem

That admittedly makes no sense

By the author

But was born out of drunkenness

Sorry

NOTHING SAYS YOU LOVE HER MORE

by matt burns

I never knew I really had one in me

But jealousy, that green-eyed monster

Crept up on me, sunk its claws in me

And momentarily possessed me

My mind was not quite my own

I had a meltdown

And ranted and raved

I accused and pointed fingers

I made a buffoon of myself

At first she was angry

But then I apologized

And she was flattered

It’s weird that a jealous meltdown

Is the most genuine way to let a person know

You care about them

It’s raw emotion, nothing calculated or planned

If you buy roses for a girl, that can just all be theater

And you can say you have feelings for her all you want

But those are just words born out of a calm, rational mind

But nothing shows you care about her more

Than when you’ve reduced yourself to the level of a buffoon

A buffoon going off on a jealous meltdown and tirade

Unfortunately that’s the best way

The most genuine way

To let her know you care

HEY, COPPER!

by matt burns

Hey there, copper

You wouldn’t mess 

With a man in

A white shirt

Black pants

Black bowtie

Would ya?!

I drank heavily tonight

Filming a Freemason ball

And I got paid in the fine currency that is open bar

Now I’m driving to the next bar

And maybe one more after that for a nightcap

The cruisers are parked in the shadows of parking lots

Other cruisers are whizzing past me

Another one pulls up beside me in the left turn only lane

And waits at the red light

He looks over to me

I pretend he isn’t even there

He looks away

The light turns green

And makes his turn

I know I’m good for tonight

I know that the black tie is a free pass

I will be left alone

High class, upper class

Videographer working Saturday night

He’s just making a wage

Leave him be

Have a good night, Sir!

The coppers have bigger fish to fry

A man like myself

Wearing a bowtie

Is a small fish to fry

No, not even a small fish

I am no fish at all with my black tie

Far away from the pond they fish in,

They won’t bother me

I’m wearing a black tie tonight

THEY THINK I’M SOBER

by matt burns

Hee hee

They think I’m slober

I mean sober

I’m slut=rring my words

I ended up filming this thing

This dance

This ball

It’s a fundraiser the masons put together

There wasn’t much money to pay me, if any

But they promised an open bar

So I said I’d be there

And here I am, six or seven drinks later

Mostly beers

But some red wine, too

I’m walking around with my video camera

Looking professional

And eating free deviled eggs

One foot in front of the other, Matt

Walk straight, don’t stumble

Or fumble, don’t fumble

Have that professional face on

Pretend you’re filming things

Instead of doing what you’re really doing

Which is slam dancing on the inside

Walking on marshmallows

Floating on Fluffernutter

They think you’re sober

But you’re pretty damn drunk!

They don’t know it

So don’t show it!

On the outside be a serious professional

On the inside be Mad Magazine!

RAY FROM ACTING CLASS

by matt burns

Ramón went to acting class at this place in the Valley

I called him Ray, it was easier

He was my acting partner

We’d do scenes together

I was better than him

I don’t mean to be an asshole when I say that

Because everybody was better than him

He was the Private Pyle of the group

And I was like Private Joker

You know, like in that movie Full Metal Jacket

I was looking after him

Trying to make him better

Ray was raised by his grandmother

They used to watch movies together all the time

Ray would watch the movies and dream of being a movie actor one day

He told his grandmother he was going to be a star

Ray didn’t improve much in the acting class

The teacher picked on him a lot

And made Ray feel like he was no good

But Ray hung in there

He wanted to succeed for his grandmother

He wanted to believe that all the work grandmother did

Raising him

And caring for him

Wasn’t done in vain

Ray kept trying to do well in the class

But one day the teacher pulled him aside

And told him he should maybe do something else with his life

The teacher didn’t want to be harsh

But he said some people just have it

And others don’t, no matter how hard they try

He had seen too many people be encouraged to death

So it was best to be honest with the students

Ray said he understood

But he went back to his grandmother’s place in San Pedro

And he got very depressed

He was very hard on himself

Ray went to the Vincent Thomas Bridge

He jumped off it

No mother should ever have to bury her son

But what’s probably worse is a grandmother burying her grandson

And that’s what happened with Ray’s grandmother

She had to bury her own grandson

She always told him she’d love him no matter what

Star or no star

She just wanted him to be happy

He didn’t have to do big things to make her proud

But he wanted all her hard work

To be worth something

To mean something

He wanted that great American tale

Tough life to the high life

Redemption!

Reward!

He wanted that happy ending to the tough life

But maybe he had watched too many movies

And maybe he should have realized

That happy ending or no happy ending

He still had a person in his life

A person who loved him unconditionally

Whom he loved back unconditionally

And that unconditional love

Should have been happy ending enough

But, instead, he killed himself

And ironically his grandmother’s work

All the work she did raising him

It was, indeed, done in vain

His biggest fear

Came true

And it was a fear

He made come true

From his own doing