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A Taste of Waste

Man, what a modern Ice Age:

Another chapter we’ve turned

W/ nothing writ on the next page,

Nothing yet we’ve learned

When Truth’s hardly discerned

W/ so many wannabe Buddhas

Runnin’ ‘round the stage.

Are you the promissory poet

W/ words of terror to wage?

After all, someone’s gotta remind

Us Destiny we shan’t find

Obsolete like machines to the rage -

Better days to ne’er come

Whilst too busy being a bum -

What an age of doldrums…

The old are gettin’ older

And the young younger,

Yet the strangest of conundrums

Is feelin’ stuck in-between,

Gobsmacked at at a past vast

Of missed opportunity

And a future nowhere to be seen.

Wake up!

Sometimes you just gotta run

Blind, like a child of the Sun

& lose your mind, mad as a hatter

Worrying not what’s the matter!

Unwind, screamin’ and shoutin’,

No time for poutin’;

Haphazardly groping Life here ‘n’ there,

Always one step ahead of disaster by a hair…

We gotta get out of here!

Follow Fate, the taste

Inevitably thy heart’s chosen,

Either wallowin’ a waste

Decrepit and frozen,

Or rise!!! Arise, goddamnit,

Like the muses, musicians,

& astronomers

of old

Who’d laugh at demise

And beam bright & bold!

Two/four/sevenfold,

For the bones of ambition

We must remold…

What a mouthful…

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