Friday, July 27, 2018

Ken Trimble # 48 No ones perfect

The older I get the less I know
when I was young it was the sixties
and I ingested all the rage and wildness and
all the fuck you I could muster.

My old man would say
wait till you get to forty,
well I've passed that, and I'm
older than him now.

I'd argue just because I could,
if the sun was up I'd say its night .

Then that security blanket
called family dies or disintegrates .

Your on your own and you know
this world ain't no Disneyland

though some think life is one
big cartoon.

I don't know what it takes
to be human, I mean is it to
live as long as possible,

have a nice job, house, wife,
kids and car, is it playing by
some rule that some other
prick made up just so you
don't ruffle their feathers.

This stuff doesn't define me,
writing, its a tiny part of
who I am but who cares
to listen.

Nobody's perfect,
everyone suffers,
rich and poor,
the powerful and the weak.

Have you ever listened
to ordinary, its not so

Washing dishes is ordinary
and it gets your hands clean
at the same time.

Compassion is listening
to the suffering being
part of it.

Someone said when asked
about life do you only choose
the good bits.

The answer came back, no
I want the lot with my hamburger,
every fucking thing,
the wars, the horrors, the sex,
the holy, the Gods , the laughter,
the sadness, the pain and the joy.
I want it all.

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