I can’t keep up and that’s just fine with me.
No one is listening and that is also for the most part fine with me.
I am believing more and more being an artist and not just playing one on the television in your mind means that you are alone for most of your life and when you expire maybe you’re work will be remembered or maybe it won’t.
We all gamble with our immortality because like it or not that’s what we signed up for when St. Peter handed us a quill pen and we put our names in the book of life for good and for bad and for the chance at beating the casino and making a boatload of cash.
Self-flagellation like masturbation will only get you so far before you have to put down the whip or whatever your toy of choice is and find some other pleasure outside of the body politic.
I cannot wait till the truth is revealed though I suspect most if not all of us will be watching another channel and will miss God’s explanation of why he started all of this in the first place.
I need to shield my eyes from the disproportionate sun and find a cave to take refuge in for a century or two.
I would have signed the Declaration of Independence if asked, but they were not interested in what I had to say so I went about my business and turned my back on the founding of our country.
I don’t believe I missed much and I did read the cliff notes so I think I’m up to speed and I really am glad we finally got around to freeing the slaves and giving women the vote.
Everything is happening so quickly sometimes my fingers beg a short break as I push them ever harder into the unchartered waters of another poetic killing spree.
Guns do kill people and even if that’s up for debate we cannot make people illegal, at least not yet, so let’s finally do something about gun safety and stop allowing the NRA to coopt our consciences and bury our good judgement in spools of bloody red tape.
This is the eighteenth poem and I am glad this poetry disc is finished until I start the next one and the next one after that.