Sunday, April 12, 2015

common domesticity

is killing me faster than my poor habits

no wonder we fake visionaries

love our fake illuminations

drink drugs indiscriminate sex

all the illusions of youth and

incomprehension of eon-old notions

of the spiritual and the profane

which themselves might have been the evasions

of the seekers of those previous times

hamper us still as if the centuries between here and now

were nothing but a momentary pipe dream

and I see myself in who was there (maybe it was me myself)

and wonder what progress the soul can make

making the same mistakes lifetime after lifetime

Content (c) 2008-2015 Philip Milito.

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