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.
I've got it right, right?
That's what you're looking for, isn't it,
Fuckin' you and everyone else, too.
You think it's absolute?
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.