Life of a Philosopher

He walked a tightrope for a while toed the line with guile as the popcorn crowd ignored the show But his slow, deliberate pace brought him no-more-close to grace than had he jumped to nameless fortune’s call below. This, he came to know. So...he drank his guts out for a while heaved up sorrows in a pile of wretched whiskey-pricked despair But the Mysteries couldn’t lose if he ruined all his shoes and rent out all his dumpster hair He resolved, again, to care. So...he beat the Bible for a while suffered through a Saviors Trial with bloody thorns and ashes on his head Bringing in the sheaves he taunted prostitutes and thieves until some wino thrashed him next to dead. It was something he had said. He bounced in Bedlam for a while-- mattress walls, halls of tile and ring-around-the-rosies in his head And when the Angel Death appeared he wore a bonnet with a beard and danced a disco-dirge around his bed. They found him dead. ....he flew to paradise in style, they met him with a smile.