What's Our Hurry?

The agony & the irony of our race to the grave.

By Eva Marie Chastain Published about a month ago • 1 min read

"It's just a ride..." ~Bill Hicks

Love, lust or bitter revenge,

empty release

between casual friends,

Such myriad means

to a singular end ~

Or beginning; for the few and the lucky.

Those who presume ~ so quick to assume

that to act on desire is disgraceful

Is their rhetoric so?

How on earth can they know?

About a subject they find

so distasteful

I look around

and Im hopeful but wary

Will progress

be ever paid for with blood?

At least in my state

I am free to be me

But for most,

things aren't looking so good

Ancient traditions have asserted their hold;

no longer content

with the simple and the old

Those who don't buy the scripture

still do as they're told;

every last soul

bought and paid for.

Shameless; the jurists,

swilling champagne on yachts, looking, for all the world

Like fat tourists in culottes

Are they really beyond the reach of our indignation?

Like a tenured professor, priest’s vow to confessor, sanctified in their unholy station

So what's to be done?

Ring the doorbell and run?

Or just sit here and stew