young people,
they think nobody has the
same thoughts as them
they take great pride in some made up
originality
as if really nobody ever thought up
scenarios of themselves descending
some rope from some helicopter and
dropping in the middle of enemy forces and
starting to shoot around, all movie like ‘an ****
and killing all the bad guys while not
taking one bullet
One man army
or there’s those other thoughts
of being simply the greatest at some
sport and being admired and envied for it
also, the thoughts of *** in all its forms
the thoughts of mindless violence
of saving the day
of being somewhere else and doing something else
all kinds of thoughts
and all the minds who think them label them as original
but they’re not original
they’re every young person’s thoughts
and me,
I also have thoughts I consider original
I think of how it is to be old
pretty much every **** day
I think of me being old and dried up and weak
and waiting for death
it’s not a very pleasant thought
especially for someone in their twenties
but it’s my way of labeling my thoughts original
maybe in some wheel chair
with a nurse pushing me from behind
No kids
no family
no fortune
no achievements
a life wasted
death watching from above
mockingly
and myself looking up at it
smiling
*******, you think you got me
but little do you know that
while I was able, while I was more lively than
a rotting carrot
I defied you by ripping apart pieces of me
that will stick with the world
long after I’m gone
Oh, they might not be great pieces or even good ones
but behind they remain as you take me away
and all of them branded with my name
It’s through them that I am
immortal
and there’s nothing you can do about it
great, good
or bad,
you cannot **** a poet