Part One: Struggle
I was young and foolish, now I’m wise, but out of time.
I’ve written these confessions to be your guiding light.
I marched through miles of mud
To reach the gates of love,
And for my clothing
Was sent returning.
Lottery ambitions make a man doing well
Feel as though he was born to fail
Dreamers are destined for regret,
Buyers know what they will get.
“Better to live one day as a tiger than a thousand years as a sheep.”
That is what a wise king said to me,
And I only take advice from the successful.
Never would I take the advice of some sad fool.
Starving and alone,
I searched the streets of hope,
But not a single home
Would take this envelope.
Part Two: Escape
At last, a whorehouse in the distance grew.
The door opened up a heavenly view.
She smiled at me, “You carry the holiday in your eye,
as Ralph Waldo Emerson would say.”
She laughed at and tore my letter, “A rhyme does not a poet make,
And too often the truth sacrificed for its sake.
All the world’s beauty is made by mother nature.
Don’t forget you’re just her messenger.”
Her advice and hospitality astounded me.
They have a hard job most certainly, I know.
They needn’t smile at customers,
Yet at me this darling does, most merrily!
Falling to my knees I proclaim, “I would die for you!”
And, sweetest of all, she does too, at once!
Bless this endless night!
And every earthly delight there is!
I shall dive and die when I touch the coral reef!
This shall be a most glorious death indeed it shall!
And death is the greatest high of all!
The only one without a fall, I hope.
Why do people drink themselves to death?
Why do people smoke themselves to death?
Why do people eat themselves to death?
We destroy ourselves in these pleasurable ways
Because we do not trust the fates, at all.
They too know they are committing suicide.
The only difference is their suicides are slower.
My plan may sound comical,
That’s because a formula for comedy is A to B to Z.
Indeed, I know much about comedy.
In fact, I know much about many things.
I know the human finger is homologous to the horse’s leg.
I know the full name of Bangkok
I know there are more than six-hundred-billion trees in Russia
I have much to bring to the table,
But am not allowed a seat.
Ah, drown these self-pitying thoughts!
I have no use for them!
Take my corpse to a farm and feed them with it!
Take my story and make a revolution out of it!
What?
The plan failed!
Who are these people?
I close my eyes to recapture the dream,
But see a man tied to a pole in the middle of the ocean
Whose eyes are forced open.
I open my eyes and see countless copies of myself,
Some corpses of myself,
But most in desperate acts
Not to get high
But to stay afloat
None acknowledge me rushing out
Do they not care?
Are they being polite?
Crossing the roads, I forgot to look both ways.
Passing strangers, I forgot to look away.
Bourgeois communists offered me a leaflet made of red,
But I dared not risk my dinner and cosy bed.
Whilst life itself has been tolerable,
My dreams have caused me much trouble.
I fail to recall what I thought was normal.
Were all tools always political?
I envy the plumber, the farmer,
The porter, the barber.
Like them I wish to be.
After all, each golden door leads but to more golden keys.
Their idea of freedom is doing the same things everyday,
And who am I to say that is not okay?
They’d ignore my instruction to bet on the red or the black.
They only listen to the wealthy no matter the luck they had.
Dreamers may only dare to dream,
Because of the humble folk’s stability.
Many nations fare fine without a royal family that crowds swarm to see,
But a nation without cleaners? What a wretched place that would be!
I shall barely notice the changing of the seasons,
Save for the annual ceremonies of delusions.
I shall barely notice the passing of the days,
Save for the pauses from the working days.
Darkness illumines the mind,
Whilst happiness blinds.
Don’t be fooled by the illusion of progress,
Only the naive engage in the pursuit of happiness.
When the leaves fell in March,
Deep scars were left upon their hearts,
Whilst this pessimist’s was protected.
I’ve learnt the worst should be expected.
Seek pride and nothing more.
Oh, but how my thoughts are drawn to the only one I ever adored.
But if I had passed the gates and gained her affection,
Then what to my desires would have happened?
I would have only lived in fear of losing her.
There is more peace in being a naive admirer.
View a rose through a microscope,
You’ll see all beauty’s lost up-close.
‘Tis better to have never loved at all
Than to have loved and lost.
Part Three: Boredom
No longer carried by the unconscious being
That pushes all lifeforms without pausing,
I’ve landed on my own two feet
In the acceptance of defeat.
At dawn, I said good morning to my telly,
My settee, my cup of tea, my cutlery.
We have lived here for so long.
How much longer can this go on?
I thought that I’d be free,
But am seized by ennui.
I lack the will to even self-implode.
I preferred the pain of the endless road.
Some are content to be a Pegasus on a carousel,
Never missing the heights from which they fell.
But a great fire that can only be killed by a greater flood
Was sparked when Everest’s air fuelled my blood.
Part Four: Struggle
I once said, “Her existence makes me believe in god.”
And last night I spoke of her like she was a dog.
What rubbish we speak in the darkness of defeat!
Coping mechanisms in fear of truths we may meet.
Yes, our story will be like those great love stories:
A sad start with a dramatic middle but a great ending.
I shall become famous to gain her attention,
And become wealthy to gain her affection.
Returning to the endless road, I read news about a billionaire,
Without any family, indeed without a single heir,
Who first finds his will buried in the chamber under his mausoleum,
His estate’s sole inheritor they shall become.
A reward from god for all I’ve been through!
Oh lord how I knew I could always trust you!
The location being so close to me,
I got on my way immediately.
I know my riches will impress her,
But will I want she who shunned me before I prospered?
Who cares? We are all rich in one way or another,
In money, or beauty, or character!
I arrive and am most glad to see
I am without company.
I dig with one thought in mind,
I will not stop until it’s mine.
My eye my only sun,
My self my only one,
My hands my only friend,
My time my only end.
But what a miserable activity!
How anyone could enjoy this? I cannot see.
If not for the promised fortune who would bother?
Imagine choosing this for a career and not another!
Ten hours I’ve dug and still no luck.
For today, I must say that I give up.
The hell I’ve been through, no-one will ever know.
All will end well though, I’ll return tomorrow.
In the morning, I return to the site to dig,
My heart sinks when I see a crowd so big.
Before the crowd is the winner,
Telling reporters how he found the will in the chamber.
“We began at about nine last night and we dug for about ten hours. We’ve been dedicated to treasure hunting for many years now and this was one of the easiest hunts we’ve had but also one of the most rewarding. We went through a dry spell this year, so this feels especially good. It’s a reminder of the importance of dedication, passion, and persistence.”
Part Five: Escape