On my tombstone
there will not be
of my online debates
or a recent perusal
of my playlist or
the movie’s I was obsessed
with and there will not be room
for all the books I loved and that
is because I want my stone to
have a list of about a dozen
people I loved, trusted and learned
from in this life.
There will be some left out,
because I plan on going out poor
unless published, the stone will be
thin I imagine but my point is
treat your life like it’s going to
have about a stones worth
of space to fit in the immense
amount of booze you drank
or the many many lays you were
a part of or the jobs and roles and
dignify your every moment with
more sacred than a
all the times you beat or
were beaten in a video game.
Or how quickly you got the new ifucktoy
in contrast with the other kids
or the salad you made from
the self garden you cooked from the
more the more ethical choice
in your yearly struggle to out-hippie
the last ones on the street.
Give it the chance to be a list of love.
Or fuck it, don’t.
I could really care
but that would take effort,
and like most,
I save it for the few
who ill take a piece
or two or will take a
piece of me when they
too leave this digital,
To be honest somewhere between
year 8 of the 9/11 discoveries and
analysts disputed claims and aliens
on the history channel and reality tv,
I just decided to say fuck it,
and accept one very important thing.
Nothing is True anymore, if it ever was,
except love. Use it or lose. Abuse it or screw
it to the wall like another bragging right.
It’s there to help or haunt.
And yet no amount of it is going ot do any good
if its wasted on shit that goes nowhere.
So keep your list short.
And keep those folks close.
And you might just get lucky,
And round out with a full dozen.