Imbibed Avarice

It’s time to move on
From lesser things,
The man at the pulpit says.
The clock hands are
Spinning out of control
The tides are
Crashing hard
And the moon is
Sinking,
So it’s time to move on
From visceral pleasure
From loosed minds
And from imbibed nights.

But I won’t
It’s too much fun
So I’ll smash the clock
Turn back the tides
Stop the sun
And keep the moon in the sky.

I’ll wander the stars
Trip over moons
And rest my feet
On distant worlds.

Why should I stop?
Is it attachment
To this world
Or
To my lover
Or
To my very breath?

Should I stop for
Meditation
The Pondering Of philosophical tomes
The journey to heaven
To a higher existence?

Have I not done that
In the
Imbibed nights
When I loosed my mind
And engaged in
Visceral pleasure?

Was there no
Greater purpose
In
Those
Moments?
Did I not
Achieve a
Higher existence
For
One of those moments?

To hell with it all.
Keep your clocks
And
Your tides
And
Your sun
And
Your moon.

I’ll create
My own
Clock and
Tides and
Sun and
Moon
Or
Perhaps
I’ll
Just
Die.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s