1213 Words:

This poem verily summarized my entire ethic. We MUST be Good, at all times, both waking and asleep, that we might treat Others fairly, and we MUST also be passionate, on behalf of our own needs, that we might treat Ourselves fairly and thereby perpetuate the process. It follows logically that there is but ONE way to get anything you want, and that is by being Good, for Goodness is a constant, as is Desire. Anyone who is Good to you must never be questioned, for those who are Good constantly must always be in such a predicament, and they deserve least to be suspected of insincerity, while those who are insincere must be rewarded so as to BECOME sincere, for they must learn that only Goodness CAN be rewarded. Those who are inconsistent must only be punished for their lapses in Goodness; they must never come to power by evil means, for then they enthrone evil, reducing Goodness to something conditional and treating the condition as though THAT were the measure of a Goodness that TRULY must be unconditional. Life is twofold: we must remain innocent in order to preserve that to which we are entitled by birth, and we must use Noble Means, the likes of which would never contradict our Innocence, to acquire those things which we need but to which we are (somehow, nonetheless) NOT intrinsically entitled. Any lesser way of life is not worth living.

I know that you are proud of me.

Namaste.

Dmytri A.A.

[({Dm.A.A.)}]

P.S.: You know what’s wild? When I first typed up the poem in Calibri it numbered exactly 19 pages, and it cut off, just as it does now, with the signature dangling alone on the last page. Now, reset to Bembo, it is 18 pages, but it cuts off in precisely the same manner. NEAT.

It started with an injury.

I had done nothing wrong.

Though no one would give in to me

Nor sing along to such a song.

Instead, the chorus:

They abhor us.

For our vanity.

They say: there is no way

There’s nothing for us

Waiting from humanity.

And I protest:

I past the test!

And I was totally

Devout and true.

And they contest:

Give it a rest.

The world does not

Revolve about just

You.

And I reply:

I know. But I

Was innocent

And undeserving

Of this pain.

They say: you are quite

Insolent to claim you

Owned it. This you

Claim only in vain.

So I explain:

I’ve known that.

But the pain of

Deprivation

Surely must contain

Within it plainly

The entire

Situation.

If, by the denial

Of desire in its

Consummation I

Were thus to be unjustly

Hurt, would you not

Say we must be

Far more trusting

Of the ones whom

We so lustfully

Desert?

Instead: the chorus

Sings the score thus:

We have owed you

Nothing more.

So though you

Had done nothing

To offend us

There is nothing

To defend within

Your store.

And I implore this at the door:

I must confess it to be so!!

But if there’s something I can do

To earn this, do please let me

Know.

For I was innocent

Of all wrongdoing

Yet if doing nothing

Wrong was not

Enough,

Then show me

What I needed to

Be doing and I

Promise I’ll

Be tough.

And yet they say:

There is no way

There’s nothing for us

Waiting from humanity.

And if your vanity

Should peak then you

Will seem quite weak

In strength and sanity.

For you are meek to even ask

If you should seek to bask

Within this glory

Why then even bother

To inquire of the task?

Is it not higher to be father

Of your own, inspired

Story?

And I say:

Okay. But there

Must be a way

That most of

My peers

Play.

How can they get away,

So few in years, with

What they do and

Say?

I never knew

Such cleverness

That could start

Families in teens.

I did not dare to

Sever this pursuit from

My most noble

Means.

But oh, how destitute am I

If every year I die a bit inside.

Wondering why I have to hide

And must abide by someone

Else’s pride.

How is it justified?

If I am snide, then

Please: I’m open wide

Upon my knees just

Tell me how am

I to cure this

Insecure

And self-

Assured disease?

And then the chorus

That deplore us

Simply roll their

Eyes.

And they say something

Of the Human Soul

That I cannot control

However wise.

And still, once more,

They say: there is

No way. No way,

No how. You can’t

BECOME entitled

To the consummation

Of your vital functions

In this day and age.

Not now.

And hence I rage:

But have I not

Been kind? Have

I no mind? And

Is it not

Refined by

Value?

Shall you tell me

I’m defined

By vices I

Had never learned?

The fire of desire

For all those I have

Admired

Left me mired in the

Pyre of an aspiration

Burned!!

And they say:

If you would

Require virtue

To have been the

Wood to fuel your

Flame, don’t be surprised

That those who had

Admired it desert you

All the same.

For shame!! For if you

Would so sear your

Inner good to forge a

Spear, don’t be surprised

When, analyzed,

You will prove to have been

Disguised and insincere.

And then I scream up to the skies:

My Dear!! How can I hence be

Analyzed? I am incensed

By this pretense: that

To tell Truth excessively

Is tantamount

To telling lies.

If am honest in my prime

And I am noble in my deed

If I am all of this and all the

Time, how am I then

To feed my basic, universal

Need?

Such a reversal is absurd:

That having proven

True of word,

My kindness makes

Me less attractive

And I find this

Retroactive:

That for even

Trying to attract

As if defying

Our most

Universal pact,

I’ve rendered suspect

That same circumspect

Intent towards which

Alone I have ever

Been prone and bent.

And they say:

This is why you

Stand alone.

For you demand

It to be known.

That you would never

Sin if you could help it.

But you’d win each time

You yelp it.

Like a whelp, and it’s

Ironic. In your genius

You are moronic.

For you see in this

The irony but you

Refuse to be.

For you confuse

Your dignity for

That attraction

Which we can

Produce not by

Some righteous action

But by breaking rank

And shifting faction

Just by the most

Subtle fraction.

My rebuttal: Yes.

To you, you would

Possess your goodness

As a tool.

And me: I am possessed BY

Goodness like I am its

Fool.

You would easily

Withdraw it

From the table

If it made you

Able to persuade

Each other how

To get along.

But I

I cannot justify

It. So I live

And I die

By it.

And you seek

To quiet me.

But why

Should I thus

Speak to thee?

For everything

That you would say

To get your way

Might be a lie.

You’re right;

There truly is

No way

[To justify it.

Nay.

Goodbye.]

[({Dm.A.A.)}]