tune-out
my thoughts are lost
in the constant chatter
my plans they dissipate
in the cloud of expectations
my patience is waning
my courage is becoming scarce
I’m constantly afraid of losing
touch with the things that make me
me
I’ve forgotten what silence feels like
I’ve given up on the notion of a blank slate…
so what else is there to do at this point?
count on the slow effects of change, I guess…
the only constant in life, the thing that takes
is also the thing that gives, and we always
rely on it to come, to rear its ambivalent head
at any moment, so when things get stagnant,
I welcome the force, the flow, the movement,
when most things get mired in bullshit,
I know the shifts are coming…
but what can I do now to be ready for it?
because I still feel woefully unprepared
I don’t know how to brace myself for anything
I don’t know what I’m talking about half the time
so maybe you should tune me out for a while
until all this shit gets a little better
Garbage Notes:
I’ve spoken in previous posts about the difficulties of change. Of adjusting to new circumstances, new environments. But the opposite can sometimes be more enigmatic. This is the feeling of stagnation. Of being stuck, knowing there won’t be a turnaround for a while.
This poem is about how it feels to be waiting—waiting for a cycle to end, waiting for something to happen that snaps you out of it, something that breaks the tedium of the moment in half.
“I welcome the force, the flow, the movement.” This line epitomizes the craving for newness. It is not a certainty that any particular shift will result in something better, but it highlights the desperation that exists when the sameness becomes too much.
Now, I recall when I wrote this. Things weren’t all that bad. At least in hindsight. Yeah, I felt stuck. But what I remember most about this particular time was that every little annoying thing felt amplified.
I felt this nagging sense that I could never get enough done, that I could never find enough time to myself. That there was no escape and I had no control over what was happening. And, of course, every little voice around me felt louder and louder.
This is where my thoughts would get lost in the constant chatter. When your voice feels stifled, everyone else around you seems to be on full blast. And guess what, there’s no volume button. No way to tune it out. That’s just how it is until, until… Well, until the next change comes around.
I think my favorite line in this poem is: “the thing that takes is also the thing that gives”. It’s just one of those true things that you learn as you get older, that the only real path to new creation is destruction. That’s always how it is.
So, in these moments, it’s good to brace yourselves. Prepare yourself. Be kind and patient with yourself. Know that change is built into the fabric of everything. You might feel stuck, but calamity is inevitable. And with every new calamity comes the possibility of new and vibrant futures.
Franco Amati 2025
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When most things get mired in bullshit, know more bullshit is coming , and then a little more on top of that, and then like ten calamities, and then the change comes.
Interesting how you reference tuning them out in the commentary, but in the poem you are telling the audience to tune you are. I like how the perspective shifts with hindsight. :) on Theme, Franco, nice work.