::06:01:08::

::: The Earthling :::

The would-be mystics and
men of the mind
sorcerers of sophistry
seek to transform mans’ vertigo
into personal fortune
Gospels sung from on low
promise salvation
but it’s overdone
smacks of desperation,
nihilism
Their
random
words
strung
together
are but a smudge
of repressed guilt
for being part of those woes they condemn.

If I’m not inspired
it’s because I’ve been living
no time for idle thoughts
idle feelings

I want to live in the world
not some substratum of the mind
an ether of embalmed intentions

The possessed ones
nest in lofty perches
where they’re free to cast stones
safe from reprisal.
Let them rule over their lonesome empires of hubris!
Let their ignominious babble rain down unhindered!
Give me chipped teeth and creased skin!
Open sores and mangled limbs!
Broken bones and battle scars!
For I am in a fierce contest
not to win the hand of some fickle, illusory maiden
but with this life.
Let me crawl along the ground
a frantic, scavenging beast
fighting to stay alive
rather than spend another second in some
far-fetched place
where angels soar on impertinent wings
rest on clouds of ambiguous dust.

Give me one minute with a real man!
rather than an eternity with a charlatan
whose subtle panhandling tries to
convince me of my inferiority

Give me streets that stretch on and on!
Crossed with cursed bodies
Broken-down, rotted hulks of humanity
Deluded atavisms howling at the moon
Streets where widows scream and
bleary-eyed men stagger towards clarity
Streets where a beggar is a known quantity
and a conviction is another campaign promise

Let there be light!
From the haunts that mark man’s sad searches for pleasure
Murky bars
Throbbing bawdyhouses
Bulging parlors
Oozing dancehalls
Bring forth darkness!
The shadows hide my shortcomings
I am a man of Earth
who is neither proud nor ashamed
Such ideas mean nothing to mortals

There is only the wind in my face
The ground beneath my feet
The spoils of short-lived victories
strewn about me.
The barbarians are at the gate
and I find it assuring.

There will always be a market
for men who think they need saving
Whose heads crane upwards
looking for a messiah to crash down amongst us
meanwhile missing my hand
extended in brotherhood.

Remember, lustful idealists.
You are the loneliest souls of all
Us men of Earth can always
look down
scrape a friend off the pavement
Swing haymakers at those
cheap agents of ego
and connect often enough
to resist your thinly-veiled elitism.

Written by: ~ Brian Eckert