This appeared in Monkey Kettle in April 2010.
You've heard the question: "Are you a glass-half-full or a glass-half-empty type of person?" I always think that people who ask that don't know what real pessimism is. That's what inspired this poem.


Beyond Pessimism


“Glass half-full or half-empty?”
Two options. Is that all?
One’s outlook defined
By such incompleteness,
Such soul-snaring confines?
I see beyond;
The glass is half-empty, and… 

 
It’ll be stolen
Before I have a chance to drink.
It’ll shatter in my hands
And I’ll slash myself on shards.
Or worse, the drink is poisoned;
I’ll hear sirens, see flashing lights,
And then scream as tumours mushroom.
Whilst I’m woozy on morphine
The fire alarm will sound, triggered
By some twit with a toaster.
I’ll trip on my way to Assembly Point B,
Fall on my face,
Lose teeth,
Bleed.

 
To rinse away the blood,
A nurse will hand me a glass,
Half-full or half-empty (or beyond)
Of water, and wonder
What’s wrong, when I hurl it away.


When discharged, I’ll head home,
Be abducted by aliens and painfully probed.
They’ll dump me in a crimson desert,
Where all I’ll crave
Is a glass, half-full or half-empty (or beyond)
Of water, and there’ll be none,
Until the stinging sand dissolves
And becomes a whirlpool
Dragging me deeper, swamping my soul.
Struggling for breath, I’ll notice I’m a speck
In a huge glass, half-full or half-empty (or beyond)
Of humanity.
And I’m drowning.

 

 © Bec Zugor 2010