Self-valuable and secure
approaches to being are
in shorter supply, the more
we compete in shit contests
with validation-seekers. "I"
is the unit of participation.
In life, this is unavoidable,
but we choose whether role
or pose is our fallback go-to
mode, and what we lead with
is intent
or purpose
or goal
or aim.
Nobody knows which we chose,
unless we tell them, as we stalk
the world like antelopes, hate
shimmering off us in waves,
unabsorbed. Vile ego hounds
think we think we're so special
but you could've told us! We
don't
really
navigate
by that star.
Who are we?
The
heathen.
But never the infidels
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.
but aren't they all random?
Wednesday, June 09, 2021
the usual mess
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