I will never be as cool as Bob Dylan,
and neither will you
(don't try).

we used to argue like children about
who loved who first
as if it mattered

how did I come to love you?

now that is where the story gets good

The longer time flows on,
the more diluted words become.
What was "love" to our grandfathers
is now "****" to ourselves.
"**** love" is what I mean to say,
but that would be redundant.

God is dead.
That feeling you get
when you kneel by the bed -
nothing more than a wish
rolling 'round in your head.

Breaking bread.
The silly things that we do
after our prayers are said.
Idols we've chosen
to stand in his stead.

No poem of mine will ever make me famous,
     especially not the ones about
god and the president.
Maybe this is for the best;
     you've seen what fame has done to
god and the president.

So much for the destiny of man,
the potential of our youthful imaginings.
No more has it been than a carrot on a string,
a flash in the pan,
a ******* that's kept us afloat
on a sea of dreadful sleep.
And in waking, a feeling,
a dim sense of purpose laid out for us
like another warm blanket to wrap in,
to cover our eyes long enough
for that familiar vision of tragedy
to come and feed our fantasies again.

As above, so below.
In the end, where you go
all depends on who you know.