The more we move forward the more
we go & become backward

Near is the time for me & perhaps for
us all, to get ready to exodus  

From a very insipid & hypocritical world
that we knowingly have spoiled & mired

Soon I’ll lay my body down, for me to
kiss the ground. No more unforgiving-
people-stuff to cosset & propound

Nothing left to justify, to glorify,
to try & figure-out, & to reason why

Perhaps I’ll be remembered for some of
the better-stuff that was me. Maybe not;
little merit nor ever profound

The joy was in the doing, the creating, not
for any applause it might’ve generated

That’s the way it should’ve been & not
the other way around

For the world has grown too old to dream
& other hallucinations have taken-ground

I don’t think I want to be around when
the planet takes it’s final bow & becomes
an even biger-bang slaughter-house grind



— Ray Laccetti