Plain.
Simple.
Truth.
And in the late afternoon of the day after, when that truth we found isn't there like it was when we were put out; we most of us get up and try to keep finding it.
Whatever the cost.
Trite words for a banal planet, maybe?
Existentialism. Intrinsic value. The Redundancy of the ages.
All the shit. Pure & Simple.
Plain. Already said, already heard.
Shit.
I've got it right, right?
That's what you're looking for, isn't it,
The truth?
Fuckin' you and everyone else, too.
You think it's absolute?
Nah.
It's just a chase.
Or a chaser.
A dasher or a thrasher.
A melancholy foreboding.
A Utopian Ode?
Tell me & I'll listen,
if you think you have it.
Repeat it over again
so I get it.
Legacy. Spirit. Soul.
The Lasting Essence.
Malformed in many a case.
Premature riddles &
Detestable prose and poem.
Writers and speakers with a bankrupt account of words,
Issuing post-dated apologies for offences to be.
Stand up by sitting down.
Sure, there's Fail safe rigging when working above rapid turbines,
but One false move,
and I hope for the tie to hold true.
While we work away,
awaiting that inevitable next day.
©