Instigated

“Write something epic” the voices said

SO. Here I am.


We once forewent the period of time preceding greatness

What consequences came forth of this?

Arguments over lack of effort

Necessity of hard work

Labor law

Unionization

Spreading

To galactic proportions

Urbanization

But let’s not get off topic

We once forewent the period of time preceding greatness

Did we save anything?

Maybe the toil

And only the toil

But what if it be neutral?

That period

I am ended

And my beat still lingers

How this?

Now, never, and later (than)

May well be the last visit I make to my doctor

For happy pills

For sad pills

 

I feel

So much more

SO much more

And so much more

And so much more creative

With just a minor reduction in my brain-crushing drugs

The pharmaceuticals

Before you shoot me, gang warfare

Before your children grow up sad

That their family is half gone

Horrific deaths

Not to stave off bias but perchance to

Do something good

My crazy pills

Are for the crazy

Are against the crazy

They kill you

They kill art

 

Dead art is anti-life

There’s no other way to put it (There’s so many ways to put it)

We can’t do anything (I can do everything)

We’re alone (We are forever connected)

I hear two

And here they are

 

Dead art is not like the forest

Where decay is the next generation’s fuel

Dead art is annihilation

Abduction

Eradication

Absolution

Narrow-minded pricks

 

Dead art is not my mother’s maiden name

We lived in a cultural world

When we were in our previous life

But she moved

So I moved

And now we’re both here

Crushed

 

I shaved my–“HEY NECK-BEARD!”

What?

I’m silent

These are thoughts

How did you hear my hair?

 

Absolution

Maybe comes oh, once a week

They sell it on the street corner

I eat that shit up

No one knows

No one cares

 

The cliches are dander

In my footsteps

We all crawl up the walls with our bail intact

Nails in my skin

I pierce

 

No uterus, no gain

No plight

No stagnation

Just a plan

Just the morose forgiveness of mother of son of another night filled with light

 

Java plan, not to forget but to love

And heathens

The anti-love

Will kill me

Have

Do

Will

 

Never marry

Never have children

Use Adobe

Aaaaaand sock it to it


So I’d say that was not an epic poem.

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