I’ve been blessed, but yet that is not enough to just stand and stare. What else can I do but to give myself entirely to the cause which is both unworthy and just? Is it wrong for the dog to think of himself, or for the others he will not lick himself for? I wish I could prey upon the oak and worry about nothing else. But this is my life which I have to accept because there is nothing else to accept but which we are given not by which we are taken. The preying mantis is the only one who can piss and moan about his small life because there is nothing left, he doesn’t even realize Jupiter. Maybe that’s it, just too small to realize the larger picture. We only want a free lunch but why. The sky never says what it wants from us, but do we ever ask. Is this poetry or just bullshit, I think its more bullshit than any other phrase in the universe. What the fuck does poetry do for us anyway? It’s just some pompous asshole who didn’t know what else to do with his or hers and decided I should then learn to write some words together, what else is there from life than to put words together. It’s what you get for trying to do what you love. You scathed and scoufled, and you get cramped to the extreme especially in your calf and stomach when you just want to do something good. Wanting to go back but it’s gone forever. What does inspiration matter? You will only inspire the next line to those who will inspire another group of word tellers, never anything worth while.
Never play bloody knuckles against a 40 oz’er, because chances are you taint going to win.
No comments:
Post a Comment