A Simple Poem
Perhaps I am a shard of glass
once part of a bottle of beer or wine
in time
it takes time for it to brew
and it takes time for it to stew
with all of its hops and not one but two
distillations sanctified sin into that bottle
that damned bottle
Oh yes, all the work, all the merry men and women that it took
To get me drunk, oh blessings
Oh sell me your soured bread and rotten apples too
Sell me your molded cheese and reshaped debris as art
and this one is tart and this one is molded
molded you say?
I do say, yes, and you must try the asparagus
I wine and dine and my eyes grow heavy
and I cannot see the fine lines
oh time has shrunk this shard of glass
from a bad party an empty bottle tossed to the sea
Won’t anyone think of the children!
Shush now you musn’t disturb the making of our frivolous flavorous fabulous liquors
You must not disturb the taking of our sisters
fanatic//fantastic
So the ocean’s tides come and go and in the sun this shard erodes
Its pointed edges and stabby bits are rounded out like a mallet
A sword of stone was once rocks and later sand
A shard of glass turn’d to a green pebble
Drunkenly I pick up this pebble delighted in my discovery
What brand is this, who manufactured it, how many died for this piece of glass?
Oh to ponder and pursue life’s mystery’s askew
Misery, Minstrelry, Ministry of Mine
Mine Mine Mine!
Nothing but time, passing and slipping away.
Time spent, appreciated, or wasted
who would do such a thing
commit such a crime
The insatiable thirst of billions of people, each needing a bottle in their hand
Each needing a drink and a home and a meal and phone
a car?
a mansion?
a yacht?
a home?
Does everyone get one, or is one even enough?
The ocean crept upon rocks and made beaches
We doused those beaches in trash for no reason
Can we not think ahead?
A head? I do not have one, do you? Lost in this poem, a maze to find the way through. So misleading, this simple poem, are you also wasting your time reading it like I am wasting my time writing it?
Are we spending time connecting? Perhaps you may come to know me through my words, and speak to me as if we are familiar.
I do not know you.
Are we enjoying the time, I write, you read, and we get back to our machines?
While we are still alive, lets have a drink!
Let’s go out to the ocean and toss our bottle in it, and perhaps in a millennia, someone else may think these thoughts.
They may write them down, and fantasize about how great of a time we had, drinking together and being. Knowing we don’t know. Forgetting what we do.
I’ve spent enough time on this, and you have too.
