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Poem

One more eeked out continuum of instant relief
and with the derelict slopes
make of life these challenging boots
lest we fall to the phantoms of defeat

But for me this standardized standard of living
and for the hungry
they watch hope in its inexorable starving
so by my own meager comfort am I brought to infamy
judged by the curse of luxury’s own debauchery

I guess we have to fight
by tooth and nail and follicle
to batter injustice to the floor
only then to suffer the iniquity of pampered ridicule

I guess we should all be proud
to scratch and claw and clamber
one upon one and over the other
this chance we have to make something better
and still never try to do it together

I guess this is it, living it
simpering, mewling rat race that it is
better that
than the meat and blood bones of the trash

So we reach for the boulders at the mountains feet
and count out time by our own ragged breath
and there in the distance
the scornful height rests
one last attempt at life and conquer death

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