hey man

Hey man,

you little man growing in the world,

let me tell you what I know:

first off:

make your world

      

posit alternatives - choose others better suited to the

     flights of your soul,

   that you humours rejoice in the clean

air of a paradise,

id est a freedom space in this land of lines and signs,

~~~~inject some vice,

yes: refuse this, confute these truths,

conjure collusions, intrusions,

a fusions holy of dream and wake,

little man: fake it till you make it: this is your boogie woogie!

second: in my world mine is the last word and mine the saying alone,

this tongue o’ mine’s a whip,

this language here I flip it – I twist it, yeah… I risk it all

this mental thread to cut and paste

I waste no breath, the import justifies the haste, so here’s a taste…

…could I amaze?

little man growing within me in the world around,

we are like Russian dolls

or onions

we’re an infinite snake which peels off eternally

  and internally regenerates,

which fact reiterates our common origins,

our brotherhood with life and death.

Vita brevis—

?

I’d say “mors brevior ” or… “till birth do us part"

-and  hurrah to me for stating the obvious!

Hurrah! madames et messieurs

or else I’ll be the beast, and you - gladiators:

twice be eaten by the tooth of the lion,

twice torn by the claws of the hawk,

twice gored by the horn of the bull and

twice thrown in the boiling pool.

see, little man?

this is no phoney school, but a brawl of enlightened fools, the stars tell me –again -  it is the top of the morning, flat ass on the kitchen bench and rum o’clock, but mind you: this is a new me, this ain’t a guy with a broken heart no more, this ain’t the struggling man-child fighting his protracted teens, no

 boom!

[drop the metaphors here and adopt a clear language------------------]

FUCK NIHILISM

Because life is a layered drink,

and the sweetest spirits

choose

the bottom of the

shot glass.

so, little man, listen, to a slightly bigger man,

listen, if you please

and

then go into the wild,

into the clubs,

into the institutions,

listen

to the promises of man

and listen

to his lies

examine

every wedded pair of eyes

little man,

learn the lessons you’ll be taught

til silence return:

 three days -three months -three years,

from the steep side of sunlight

lizardish y’absorb the heat,

whore-like, alone and cheap

or god-like, dear but beat

little man big trouble, squabble not. unravel

n b