PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Sometimes, the only logical course of action

in life,

is getting wasted or getting laid

or both

Particularly, if we think too much

Because youth, is just a bag of wants

and desires

and a trophy room of reckless daydreams

and flamboyant forgetfulness

and neglectfulness

Till we schedule time, to evolve

But even appointment books, can be remiss

and we often fall asleep

at the switch

And I lived that way, for a long time

I lived that way,

because it was the only damn way

I knew,

because I was new - and foolish

and nothing disturbed me

and nothing ruffled my feathers

and nothing shamed my conscience

and my volition remained perfectly constant

and without remorse

And I could think of no

good reason

to stem my aggression

in any

of its incarnations, that vastly overpopulated

any altruistic intentions

But later in life, I would often study myself

in the mirror,

through the many faces, that I discarded

And I would discover, that these things

were no part of me

but were the wild incarnations

of wandering spirits, that often inhabited me

And each wild wandering spirit, was like a chameleon

that spun itself into many forms

to attain,

whatever its heart desired

And it was a fun game, for a while

but it soon

became tiring, and I no longer wanted

to be, anyone's diamond

But instead, I wanted to be

their pot of piss

I wanted to be a pot

of piss,

and see if I could still, be loved

But sometimes, truth is stranger

than logic

and I made a strange discovery

And the discovery was, that i was loved even more

as a pot of piss

Because a pot of piss, is often loved more

than a diamond

But being a pot of piss, was only another exercise

in debauchery

Another means to an end, but the end

was the same

It was an exercise, of scorpions and snakes

and I had plenty of those

and the more I stung, the more I gained

But there was nothing divisible

No substance

to break, and no breaking points

Which meant, no liabilities;

only a solid core

And an honest word of prayer, at the alter

of nothingness

which i held as a trophy, despite knowing better

What I did have however, was choice

endless choice

And I could always pull my puppet

ass across

the stage, for the next act

And do whatever little dance, came to mind

Because another day of tug-of-war, has

no consequence

and the eloquence, is always in the pulling

But once I pulled it near, the fun was gone

And my canyon call

to the gods,

never made it beyond

the canyon wall

Because my echo was superimposed

on nothingness,

and I mistook the echo, for the gods

answering me

But it was just a mirage, just another

watery mirage,

in my little desert landscape

But my greatest concern was never

dying of thirst

My greatest concern, was to avoid caring

about it

Because caring about a thing

or anything

Is the beginning of the end

of everything

And i never wanted

endings,

I only ever wanted, endless beginnings

And whether these new beginnings, moved me

or not

was irrelevant

Because i never wanted, to move or be moved

I only ever wanted, to be immovable

~/~