1.
I prefer the noise of horny crickets
To the screams of lust.
Adapted by humans,
Quick to describe immortality
As a Smart Drug.
(Injected, or popped)
The preference for in-take is null.
2.
Libertines of great intellect
Spent their moments of despair
Drinking Buddha's words
Out of the Holy Grail.
Believing that
"Life is suffering."
Discovering,
The excess of fun
Is no more meaningful
Than the manicured roses
That bloom every year.
In the City Hall's garden.
It's not me.
It's not them.
It's the amphetamines.
Each time they blink,
The chains that hold their pupils open
For dilation, rattle.
I cannot tell if that's a tear of joy,
Or a whimper of poignancy.
Glinting from the corners of their eyes.
I used to stand on a ledge
Preaching:
"The purpose of corrupting your senses
Is to experience a different perspective
Of reality."
But I have discovered no purpose
In a sober reality.
Why should a inebriated reality
Be any different?
A.j. Binash
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-fun-my-babe-no-fun/
