Many dreamers
have lofty goals of status—
That’s not me.
Those from Lower Society
Want to Become Higher Society—
to go to ballroom dances
with champagne
and schmooze
with aristocrats. Think, F. Scott Fitzgerald
That poor bastard was chasing something he could never have
because it didn’t exist.
He wanted acceptance.
What a horrible thing.
Enough life experience has taught me
that people
are people—and there are some good ones
in the rotten wood, but most of them
are rotten.
The good ones
are a social class unto themselves
They have class
and they don’t care where people come from
even though
they know the rules
so well.
I would be content
with an island
of people
to watch
beautiful fish
to see in the sea
scuba diving, by the reef
where the sharks swim
tanning on the beach, where I might live forever.
I wouldn’t drive a Ferrari
from one place to another
but a bicycle.
I would write about island life
and play golf with the locals.
If I could watch
1000 sunsets
I would consider myself
wealthy.
I would shun the universities
and learn about
seashells.
Take away the sun
and your eyes begin to dim.
Take away the sand
and the wind
and give yourself four white walls
and you begin to feel trapped.
Tell a man
that
who he is
depends on other people
and he will go mad.
Maybe not, all the way
but it slows him down
until he watches TV on the couch
and forgets.
My brand of genius
is to do what I love
to make music
in the warm night
to write
with delight
and enjoy the sounds of society—
that hell
that drowns people
in a sea of despair.
I don’t want to save it.
I want to write about it.
Loving the title and narrative of this poem! ❤
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Yes. How many people actually do what they love, and keep doing it, until the day they die? That’s my goal!
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