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.
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