four decades plus.
many manifestations do make us.
Irish and adopted. Catholic Anarchist.
a once young hooligan, a Rozzie rat.
conpetitive sports in my teens, mopeds. a few girls. still able to dream.
the drink found its hole,
significant sadness needs to water the soul..
misery my company,
work and crime, hustling away time.
a jack of all trades, alone he fades.
ships have sailed, with kids left in tow.
remnants of past, the living bereft.
once a marine always a marine.
traveling hobo who hops freight.
adventure gone no more dangerous jobs.
its Christmas day, without a single gift beneath the tree. voluntary poverty away from capitalism still seems strange. Socks would be nice. as they three sleep, my ride or die who occupy the same bed; I write. The Pogues stream from a bluetooth speaker. extended family day in the old hood. enemies exposed, unloyal traitors. back to the basics, strain for what made us. And as I dig through the layers, I can barely find those hard scrabble roots.
lacking grit, I sit and sit.
a physical toughness gave way to mental.
contemplative thought processing all of it.
are we all experiments, without recipe.
what has prevailed beneath my lifelong vail?
it must be self. an abosolute truth that dances in lies. an evolutionary and revolutionary. a parasitic host willing to shift and shuffle into new shapes, evolving and surving. without metamorphosis that watered down self evaporates. all aloneness, we change; seeking, searching, failing through life. so what next? which mask? who will I become today? where is my violence, where are my guts? am I content? is the final curtain call, near?
unsure, no fear. havent in years. fate is the key. life is the drug.
as it could get worse, i am not so lucky. my chaos is over, must morph into middle age in radical ways. never taking the same path home. never buying the same car twice. never dating the same girl again. never working where I have worked previously. a few rules that have served me well in all versions of living hell. heres to you, here is to me. who ever we are selfishly thee.