Old men, look at us now, we,
the living, we the exposed to Camus,
and Sisyphus and Faust and Iphigenia,
we, arriving at a wake of Ozzie's meme,
his driving force, his words, in truth,
his mush tip bamboo pens, faded
his words, you have,
to read, and think, he lived, long
in character, I think, he did all he could,
as do we all, NPCs, we the entertained,
we the cast of thousands pumping the jams,
and bringing the gospel to those thirsty souls,
go fast the acceptable fast, go past the evidence
per se, se cura, free from worthless folly, wise
in waiting, wise in escaping the Druj, indeed, the lie,
we found the first fruits of wisdom, patience, let be,
spirit in the form of truth, lie not against that, let be…
gaseous we form, whatsoever we agree, we may, we se
free from unreasonableness that justifies any war, any
waste of any child's first ration of hope, first faith evidence,
the happy child who suckles at a happy mother's breast,
best of circumstances for a new born in the world,
any where, where some peacemaker made a stand, here,
we banish beguiling mistaken steps, trespass into holy,
dare not blaspheme, nor dare define the term, judging
me, heretic speaking through magic tech, shocking
turbo life at 75, yes, cardiac arrest flat line, thrice,
so wu wei, pay attention, now
ask what is one such day worth, just to imagine.
A friend told me she listened to tribute to time a three mile run, and then we talked about bells tolling and how ill Donne was in 1624, and how trying the patience of the saints and enduring to the end of old age, is all the grace we can expect... but you need to survive seven decades to taste the fruit of certain seeded dreams of peace on earth, RIP Ozzie and Randy and all the roadies.
