Tagarp

Tagarp!
The light! The see-er!
Exclusively sold by IKEA dealers.

Entrancing! Standing screwed in and tipping,
with photons emitting from here, and here, and here!
And here — On/off reads the switch, so his function is clear:
just one flick and the lost is found and
gone is the darkness encasing the ground.

Sometimes I wake from a frightening dream,
to have slender still Tagarp looking over me.
Spread on the wall, a shadow so tall,
Reminding us all we’re just one misstep away from falling.
From breaking for good.

We’re far more likely to topple than trees,
when pulled together with just a couple of screws
and only one key.

Writing and lighting. They’re completely different right?
Shining writings of truth is tough,
tougher than glowing up a room full of stuff, you gotta
write and
write and
write and
write and
write and
write and
right…
it still might not lead to anything fruitful enough.

Never can my truth stand so reliably,
as Tagarp’s all-or-nothing on/off mentality.
And like Tagarp, my art oughta find
one true purpose.
A truthfulness. A usefulness.
So together aglow we’ll all bloom to this
well-lit certainty.

What if life was just screwing in the pieces?
If everything else was this easy, Jesus!
If every next guess came step by step,
with some spare parts left, you could just
leave in a drawer and completely forget.

I want to stand like this lamp of mine,
so steady in its fixture.
Stand poised like a poet,
deep insight to deliver.
Knowing everything touched is no longer in shade,
is worth so much more than the $20 bucks paid.
With your light in my corner, I’m better today.

So Tagarp I really have to say:
for faux sunny day weather inside,
you really do tie the room together my guy.