Temperance

A Fucking Pome About Temperance

They say the force is about balance in the universe Evil needs to exist in order to keep good in check Good wants to exterminate evil from the world But then you get your Gaza situations And what do you do?

Well if you have some fucking power And a goddamned spine You might chain yourself To some politician's office door But when the weather turns You best get out of there

I want to write something clean Elegant and pure Like Ariel flitting through the air But my inner Bukowski gets in the way Drags me to the right side of the tree Or is it to the left? Who the fuck knows?

It's not the goddamned middle I know that much They also say you gotta find your own voice Where was it hiding? Maybe the post office lost it

Don't try

Don't take that flash and corrupt it Bring it through the veils Quicker than gangbusters Ride the lightning Write it down Don't let the world corrupt it

Plath's stillness under the bell jar That static charge The place where ideas come from The nothingness of the void And then the brilliance which fades

Is it impossible to let something go and have it go whole?

Plath and Bukowski walk into a bar One puts her head in a stove The other dies of cancer And that’s all there was Story’s over