Earl Cooley III

yes, find your passion
and curb stomp it
until yammering agony
subsides into blessed silence,
the peace of the grave

or choose the security of the slave,
the slave to passion,
philosophy’s wild handmaiden
bent on the annihilation of meaning
on the altar of truthiness.

unfettered by the surly bonds of awareness,
instead, let your words choose themselves,
as they know what’s up and down
better than you or I ever will;
the words will snarl with affection.