A Small Sense of Dignified Self.

Image: The Divine Comedy, Paradiso, Canto 18 by Gustave Doré. The Blessed Throng Circling to Form Letters

… And now the sophisticated soliloquy solidifies the scene,
Time for all to wake from this ill orchestrated nightmarish dream,
Prioritize spirit but never forget the CREAM
Life’s a constant hustle
(Siempre hay que ponerle, y ponerle machin!)
Voracious reader, a true literary fiend
My medium is dying, but still I rep the team
On mission to give descriptive words meaning,
Check pronouns and verbs
Surrounded by an unlikely bunch of Ill literate nerds
Can’t seem to chill, verbalize radical thought
Until we utilize every last option available,
I voice my opinion proudly and sense that it’s relatable
The Underdog constantly reiterating that
A better reality is damn sure attainable
Liberate deep thoughts from the dark side of my cranial
Inner peace state of mind becomes the only remaining unknown variable
Relay coded messages loudly out in plain view
All the while brain flies into a continuous frenzy
Devious devils constantly tempt me,
I stand firm and refuse to go out gently, till death
Put in work, lurk in the shadows
It’s murk or get murked, gamble life with every last battle
Whatever fate destiny may send me I always remain agile
Strong backbone by no means fragile
It’s either that or lose my dignity and shirt
And before that I’d much rather give Devils the business and hurt
Learned to be wary of any devious smirk
Still bleed sin and distribute virtue, out to win
Discreet discipline (noticed only by the connoisseur of the verbal)
Trained to give it 100 and overcome any random LAPD type hurdle
Deconstruct obstacles within the matrix of domination
Haunted by an unavoidable eventual self confrontation
To be dissected and nit picked by literary journals
Is not all I work to attain, I roam and remain in dark parts of the brain
Going against the grain ever so stealth
Orchestrating structured thoughts so as to
Salvage spiritual wealth and save if even a small sense of dignified self
In purgatories waiting room truly hoping to avoid hell
Consolidating my soliloquy into an exquisitely condensed literary nut shell