Stability Is Not An Option

The first stanza of my 1987  poem, CHANGES, is:


Never an option.


the name of the game.

I feel very unstable. Buffeted by the winds of major change. I know I SHOULD be attentive to world affairs. But, I want to run and hide.

My former religion told me what to read, what to think, and what to do.

I left because I needed to be free. To think for myself. To live my life for myself.

And, yet after 31 years of thinking for myself, I find my life, in effect, determined by some idiot who doesn’t seem to think at all.

Where ever I turn I hear the T-word.

T said this outrageously stupid thing. T said that. T did even worse.

Well, fuck T. Metaphorically, that is. My manhood shrivels at the thought of actually doing it. Uggggh.

Yet, if I want to be aware. And, I do want to be aware. Because awareness engenders life.

So, I needs must be open to CHANGES. Open to the instability.

But, please, can I do it tomorrow.