Self-esteem

G!

I stand upon a rock;
It's a big, hard type of
Rock, maybe a granite,
And on a good day it's
The size of four minivans
Lined up two by two and
Wrapped in a bundle.
The top of the rock is
Flat, with enough room
To lie down, pace about
And jog in little circles on.
The sides of the rock are
Smooth and polished, and
Are impossible to climb.
The only way to get on my
Rock is via a rope ladder
Which I can lower and raise
At will, and this way I control
What gets onto my rock, and
What doesn't. When I stand
Upon my rock I can see for
Miles around, and what I see
Are many rocks just like the
One I stand upon, yet most of
Them are vacant at the top.
Some people might think me
Foolish, for standing atop my
Secluded rock, where there's
Only room for myself, but
I believe as firmly as the
Firmness of my rock that
Where I am is a good place,
And I'd like to stay here.

What do you stand on?

What would Herman say about sall this?

By G!

If Herman Melville were
Alive in our time I'd
Like to venture forth a
Plausible theory that
He'd have written a book
Even more sprawling than
His masterpiece Moby Dick
Which I'm in the process
Of reading. Ours is a time
Devoid of meaning but
Full of implications;
A time that assaults the
Senses but leave nothing
Behind; a time fitting
To gaze into the pro-
Found nothingness and see
Our reflection composed
Of pixels. All that used
To be sacred is now muted
And we are left with a
Feeling of loss attributed
To some source we but
Dimly decipher. Were
Herman alive today he
Would have composed
A lament on this matter
Of such proportion to equal
The volume of ten Moby
Dicks. If he found the
Whiteness of the whale
Terrifying, what terror
Would he make of the
Blackness of the computer
Monitor? What existential
void would he find gazing
Into the flickering television
Screen? How many mad
Quests would he discover
How many indestructible
Foes in place of nature?