The Rip Post                                                                                              

Forget all about that.
Forget it if you let it.
You get hooked on
Your narratives, like
Some opiate fantasy
Popping into your mind
And you take it to be
Revealed truth.

But itís just some
Stagnant spume
Wafting about
In the backwaters
Of your soul.

That which you deemed
To be important is as
Ephemeral as the
Morning dew which
You took to be a
Communique from
The heart of the cosmos
Borne directly to you
By the utmost angels.

It wasnít a matter of
Beatitude, beauty or beat.
It was more like a
Bad attitude, a bray, a bleat.
Not Kerouac, Schiller
Or Don Van Vliet.

From this moment
On forget about your
Memories, thereís no
Time to dwell on the
Past, the sands are
Falling fast. The next
Second could be
Your very last.

Be vigilant, be alert,
The propitious time
Arises like some
Constant spring
Be always on alert.

Every moment
Must be right as rain
Every action must
Elucidate and explain
Are you up for the game?
      ---Jack Oakes


© 2002 Rip Rense. All rights reserved.