I'd give a Benz to have a pocketful of it,
That quieter mind, the circumambulation
In a large garden patch walled in by stones.
My rage would be falling to the ground
Scattered under work boots of the builders.
Read-up the literature of offices -- all mankind unite
In carrels and modules, cubicles and desk rows
Meeting up on the treadmills doing cardio
Seizing at the prime architecture of self
And a lunch of pork bun and orange soda.
I know too much about the proliferation
At my disposal -- scat music for the ears,
Digital van Gogh, ululations of a world.
My mirror is democratic;
It talks back in terms I understand.
They won't put me away. I'm too valuable
As an example of the 60 percent man:
Forty of him you don't want to be.
They'll mint me a place with clean drywall
And a view of the pool and ample TV.
The sphere of my acquaintanceships
Will hand out tickets to game shows.
Women with permanents swizzling mai tai
A madcap clip of us grin on the local news
Calling a bingo count, never in imbalance.
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Ah! la " dolce vita",l' "otium" so attractive!But i think maybe it would be a pity to loose your rage, such a powerful mainspring.
ReplyDeleteAh, another existential view. I like the way you size things up, T. "My mirror is democratic" says it all.
ReplyDeleteorfeenix,
ReplyDeleteI must have my old "Rage Is Good" t-shirt somewhere in the dirty wash. Yeah. There has to be a motivating energy, and rage shares it.
There's a alchemical mix that has to be just right.
TFool
Willow,
ReplyDeleteI feared upon completing this one that it read too much as a 'downer'. You know, I'm basically a cheery guy.
I must tuck the pessimism into those spidery recesses known only to my close friends and people with the stomach to read my poems.
There has to be a 'light existentialism' that isn't 'existentialism lite'?
TrulyF'l