I’m sick of people being selfish without a purpose;
Who present me with needs and wishes that are as needless and witless
As the Suburbans and Hummers which cart around their single child,
Circling around the cardboard boxes they inhabit;
Angry because their box is the same as the next;
Angry because the next box is better,
And aren’t I as good as them?

Give me instead
The selfish ones with an inflamed amount of passion
For a striving entirely individual;
Not garnered by the masses;
Not shamed into categories.

Give me instead
The selfish ones with such an outrageous appetite
For human potential;
They choose their own fertilizers
Not to be chosen by them.

I want that kind of raging selfishness
That underlies a fire of drive and fierce longing
For self-improvement;
For self-control;
For self-legacy.

I want that kind of relentless selfishness
That yearns and tingles for the chance to contribute
To a greater moment;
To a greater truth;
To a greater society,
Through the betterment of one individual.

Give me selfishness with a purpose
and you will have
Given me the world.


The reader brings his or her own experience to the poem and creates meaning. Here is my experience:

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