A quarter century ago
I came to this world
Crying and kicking
Maybe it was wisdom
Mistaken
Maybe it was warning
Unheeded
That with every anniversary
The World will love you
A little less
That with every year gone
Life will slip away
A little more
But still, it is a milestone
And I mark mine
With my words.
Man is no social animal.
It is a myth perpetuated
By the weak among Men.
Man was made to be lonely.
Alone in wombs and graves;
And the most solitary
In the years between.
Society is a farce.
Like the shadow that
Surfaces only when everything’s
Bright and sunny.
We are all lone wolves.
Truly alone, and
Infinitely vulnerable.
What good is an open book?
The cat out of the bag?
The un-clenched fist;
The revealed secret…
Divulged, truth dies
A hasty death…
Often with no meaning
And always without love.
Each day was begun with a death
Of flimsy paper,
Ripped violently from
A kitschy calendar
The hours tumbled down
An unforgiving clock
The hands shoved and heaped
The minutes away
And another day ended
Dying
Everything in the world
A phoenix of no magic
Everything died unto itself
And was born unto itself
There is no myth
For we empty it out
Everyday
There is little that survives Time
Long enough to see another day
But with the World so full
The little multiply into fake multitudes
And we believe the order’s never been disturbed
Maybe this was the order- that
Those that die, should die unnoticed
And those that get born
Should never know when to exit with grace
It’s a delusional Time
A morbid World
I still walk alone
But now there’s a shadow
Beside mine
I think it’s you, but
There’s no need to
Turn around
I’ve reached a cliff
With a final decision
To make:
To take a step forward
And feel the air
Compress my existence
Or,
To sit down at
The very edge and see
The world for both
Of us;
Live my life knowing
Your shadow
Is a delusional burden
I carry willingly
I promised to pay all my dues
In my seventh life
And now that I am living
A seventh time,
I find my head empty of
A past promise
Each dawn brings a new day;
A free gift of misery
Sent with a celestial receipt
That I must sign
In my ancestral blood
My bloodied signature fades
As I move my hand
Nobody has to know, says the Sun
My woe messenger
Whose rays penetrate everything
This way I bid farewell
To my six other pasts
But I had not a clue
And stood fearing the dawn
Even on the day I died
One last time
