As the sands of time fall into the insatiable chamber of insanity
We can be certain of very few things in the confusing journey of life
Except that each and every passing moment will be long gone
While glimpses of happy and sublime times, pain and darkness
Remain in the neural pathways of our burning, overclocked brains
Time does not wait around for the indolent to take action
Nor does it take mercy on those who repeat the same history through and through
The fate of the fool who does the same thing over and over again
And waits around complacently expecting a totally different result
As a drifter who has wasted half his life running to the same dead ends
I implore every one of us to make the most of each and every day
For each moment could very well be your very last in this realm of purgatory
Yes time waits for nobody and it can sweep you aside effortlessly
If you allow it to tick on over without putting in your very best effort
And before you know it most of your life has gone past in a blurry flash
As painful memories and failures past and present torment you each and every day
This is a reflection on a life only half lived at the best of times
The same old sad story playing on loop like a broken record
But if you were to scratch the surface like a skilled turntabalist does
You may begin to see the infinite possibilities which life itself offers
And actually create that which the heart desires and the mind conceives of
As you live each and every moment to the edge of the boundary of full
And not lay to waste all the potential you always held in your hands
From day one in the ground zero that was once the wreckage of your life
So waste not another moment while you are still alive and kicking
And heed the advice of one of time's most highly skilled assassins
Don't allow the ghosts of past defeats to haunt you and drag you down into oblivion
Or before you know it you find yourself drowning in a sea of despair and resignation
To all that you cannot retrieve from the ashes of yesterday's failures
For half a lifetime can go by in the blink of an eye out for an eye
Let go of all fear, self-loathing and hatred for your enemies as best that you can
For life is too short for one to be caught up in these roadblocks to time well spent
Art sucks. Poetry sucks. Everything is fucked. I suck. You suck. So if I am so anti-everything, why do I even bother "creating" anything? Well one has to do something with one's time. Welcome to my playground. I am the Dissident Poetician. Doing Poetician stuff is what i do. "Art is dead, don’t consume its corpse" - graffiti in the streets of Paris, May 68. Long live the spirit of May 68. Piss in the fountain of dada.
About Me
- dissident poetician
- i am the dissident poetician...i tear down fences with sardonic sardines and metaphysical cucumbers