You Got To Die

Blah Blah Blah Bourbon.

We'll walk away from this life wondering 

how a soul could be so happily consumed 

and so profoundly tattered. 

F**k it. 

Whatever past there was 

only means there is more to be made.

It's the time that lies before us 

that has left the most daunting memory. 

And the past?

It aches with longing,

It wants to catch up to the present.

It only matters in its own world,

a choked star

a visible dimension

a maritime battalion

filled with men

who pause only for the possibility of the future.

------Oh my.-------

Everything feels so left behind.

One of these days, man.

I'll wake up.

Rain will be falling in some stoned twilight.

I'll realize time is a simple figment.

That lasts for f*****g ever.

I just wish I knew more about this world.

------Ben, get a hold of yourself-----

I'll make this world fodder for my insanity.

I'll turn it all on it's head and watch the moss grow

with my eyes turned towards God in pale disbelief.

A sort of final masterpiece.

A sort of dementia weaved throughout the veins of time.

And maybe I'll dissipate into the unknown.

A legend kept in Purgatory.

Or maybe I'll get rich and spend my days 

remembering my youth

in sad orgies 

and bourbon binges of the mind.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Some questions won't be answered till we find death.
"A sort of dementia weaved throughout the veins of time.
And maybe I'll dissipate into the unknown.
A legend kept in Purgatory."
Years ago I was concern with where I will land. Purgatory maybe a good place for a soul confused by this world. Thank you for your amazing poetry. Made me think.
Coyote

[Megan]

this makes me think of a saying I heard a couple days ago "we're nothing but a bunch of dead people who haven't died yet." AHH! I know what you're feeling and it's so crazy because those thoughts are constantly running through my mind. You express them and right them down so well. You capture the confusion and the wondering so perfectly! do it again!

[J]

but doesn't the tattered predecease the happily consumed? don't they give meaning to one another?

and the past ... i think it is a lifelong riddle trying to determine just exactly where it does belong ..... that which we stockpile in moments that only gain significance in a hope for a ........ meaningful f.u.t.u.r.e. this waiting game of faith which begs that there has to be a reason for all the bullshit "dementia."

or perhaps there is not. enter stage left: bourbon binges.

wonderfully formatted spontaneous expression.
now go.to.work. ;)