Tuesday, March 26, 2019

Song by Brian Gore

I sip a witches brew
to reach the visions she promised.
I dance.
I feed on flies that stop
in my mind’s web.
I take cheap glances at
nice backsides
and celebrate debauchery.
How could I not?
I celebrate!
I laugh in secret
when I lie and steal.
I am unable to afford
the vices that carry me through
the miry mess man creates.
He who says I ought to be ashamed
of my celebration
is naive.
I do not feel morally obligated
to the morally obsolete.
Ha! Impoverished I,
heavy-eyed, calloused and limping,
to feel obliged to
the soft-handed gambling thief
who is reinforced by the
oblong rules of his appointed council?
Certainly not. Never!
I do not participate in wickedness,
for it torments those who
do not take part in its destruction.
But vice,
this is perky tits!
We are expected to raise
our country in the palm of one hand
and God in the other;
to feel obliged to the
Law of the Land and
the Law of our Fathers, yet
you will not find me with raised arms
except to wrap them around
the shoulders of my compatriots.
Will you toast with me?
For you and I,
are each greater than the State
and greater than God!
We ought to celebrate
that we know this.

BrianSGore is a writer of short stories, poems, and songs. He has published several collections of original works including Barstool Ballads, Eleven Stories for Short … Attentions, and Tangled World, as well as coordinating a collaborative project entitled A Collection of Poems by Various Poets Regarding the Line '10,000 Miles of Farewell’. His newest book, Drawn Thread, is now available, along with his new album Going, Never Stopping, at briangoing.bandcamp.com. 

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