Sitting in something akin to serenity
Always has this effect
The inducement of a feeling
The evocation of a purpose
For the pen to imprint on paper
The memory, musings and essence
Of he who wields it
In his hands
To inflict his pleasures and pains
His losses and gains
Across the stage we call a page
For all and sundry
Or one (or none) to see

The effervescence of his thought
The life less sought
Tantalises him
Dancing across the corridors of his mind
With the abandon and vigour
Of a much younger self
In its incessant questing, thirsting, yearning
For truth and knowledge
In a world of lies
One easy to despise
A world controlled by the onset
Of venomous sties

Can his body follow his mind?
Break his self-imposed bind?
A constructed constriction
A false protection
From the prodding, pierced, sharpened tongues
The filthy ejaculations and emissions
Of a cursed cabal of cock-faced cunts
Mired in the cum and quim juice of conformity
Yet he takes pleasure, takes solace
In the fact that the STDs
Of stupidity and society
Serve to submerge them
In the swill of shame and servitude

Still he knows that
The battle lines are firmly etched
Cleanly sketched
So, wielding his weapons
Singularity his shield; sagacity his sword
He steels himself to fight
This war of art, truth and right
And sets out across the plain
Toward his goal
His purpose?
The replenishment of his reservoir
Of pride


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One Response to Pride

  1. ghostdog_ says:

    I am sensing an self-biographical nature to this? Even if not, its good.

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