Saturday, August 22, 2009

Trip On Yourself


Who are you,
I yet wonder,
And what deep stupidity am I in--
In what terrible hole are we where I pretend
I'm civilized and don't mind AT ALL
When others are marginally rude
And make those crude observations
About our shortcomings
Or ignore my ugly kisser so wholeheartedly
While I dance on the ends of these strings
On any early morning like this,
Whether I surmise the risk is tempting and rise
Or shrink and struggle to re-weld my eyes
And go back to sleep before I fall?
Ordinarily, things don't work like that at all,
Or not for most...

Though long, I guess that was a question of sorts,
But it also makes various statements
Without a line-of-sight past for any of them
And spews out accusations that know no rest
Nor any bounds while the business of the world
Seems to be nothing but Busyness and busted teeth
At a very high rate of speed.
I wish you'd all just trip on yourselves,
With or without your hands in your lap
Or your fist in anyone's pocket
Or that controversial load of lead
You claim is in your pencil instead of in your ass!
Everything continues to burn itself up in hell, I hear,
And so will you and all of this that I love or fear...

2 comments:

  1. Oh, Mister, you're so good! Tale some Activia and you'll really be rocking!

    ReplyDelete

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)