Reverie
By MPTGraves
Attempting now but seldom seeing anything but failure
in my half-hearted attempts to be creative, thinking, able
even just to grasp the wonder known when I was somewhat younger,
and prolific, unscientific, nonspecific, yearning, hungered
for imaginated realms of unbound thoughts; no inhibitions,
hours spent in trees concocting philosophic ruminations,
dreams and fantasies and hatreds, lovings, loathings, feelings, sated
through the avenues and corridors of thought concatenated
with emotion unrestricted by objective limitations,
now I find it all is stifled due to years of habitation;
growing stagnant, stupored, slow, and quiescent to non-exploration
as I've drunken deeply of the well of rote-dull recitation,
spewing words of those beneath me rather than to form my own
ideas, dreams, imagined places that once for which I was known
with notoriety that earned me shun-filled scathings from the masses
called my 'peers', how sophomoric, fear and time passed like molasses
until suddenly I found myself a grown jade-cussed man
with no regard for others' jibes and darts and pettiness I stand
apart as still an echo of the dreaming boy who had no friends
and yet amalgamated now with strength sufficient for my ends
to be achieved but still I feel a pang of sadness at the changes
that have left me unpoetic; to myself some kind of stranger,
so I take a moment now to fill a page with playful musings
in the style so reminiscent of my youthful word infusings
in the hopes that in me might rekindle flames of former passion
for creation, meditation, incarnation, and irration-
ality insofar as to never find myself complacent
willingly self-subjugating to ideas non-adjacent
to my own and to forever push beyond the current thresh-
hold on the bleeding edge of self-affected betterment of flesh
and mind and spirit and emotion synergized unto ascendance
far out-stripping past mere/lesser/base instinctual dependence
on another’s; someone other’s or Big Brother’s wayward leading
down the path of least resistance; sheep a’flocking without bleating
to the gas-chambers of dictators’ tyrannical oppression
never suited me, no mortal man can pardon my confession
of the countless sins committed in my selfish life’s existence
I have chosen to continue out of spite for the resistance
that is met in every day of living here in purgatory
Sally forth, I will, and boldly! to the end of my life’s story.
-mg