Between Bitterness and Eternity

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Abstract

meadows of rustic charm, wondering what todo with words like bucolic. Bukowski would've spewed it with pride. In spite of him being an old cuss of a big pill, Chuck lived and was nonchalantly chill, but knew exactly how and when to tell life to fuck off and go to hell. So, whywaste a metaphor on the man next door, when there's already enough certainty to accept the ideal that deep down the animosity we sometimes feel is a festering, self-inflicted sore. So,cauterize it with some Everclear or moonshine. It'll do you fine. Though, it's nothing more than damage control, since there'll be more pills to swallow.Bitterness taunts the felicity of life, leaning on a drudged up grudge, or waiting for a penny to drop beforethe truth dawns is more a pantomime of critical thought than a pastime.Solitude should never be in agony of grieving a life less lived, cleverly disguised by its own bitter reality.Thanks to <a href="undefined">J.D. Harms</a> for this Saturday prompt:<div id="e081" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/stellar-syntheses-481752e79476"> <div>

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            <h2>Stellar Syntheses</h2>
            <div><h3>08 August 2021 Saturday Poetry Prompt: power of an opening question</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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    </div><p id="13ae"><b>2021 <a href="https://twitter.com/i/lists/1278404093778833408"></a></b><a href="https://twitter.com/i/lists/1278404093778833408">MDSHall</a> is a poet and a creative, who is the creator and curator of <a href="https://medium.com/the-bazaar-of-the-bizarre">The Bazaar of the Bizarre</a> and a submissions editor for <a href="https://medium.com/the-pom">The POM</a>, living in Illinois, also writing in association with the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/361150567906886?source=post_page-----3a07a9767d0d--------------------------------"><i>Writes of Passage</i></a><i>, </i>“forged on the wordwrights’ anvil,” and <a href="https://21stcenturygrio.wordpress.com/">Lingua: Ex Libris Life</a>, because as Albert Camus said, “to create is to live twice.”</p></article></body>

Or: what would Bukowski do?

"Do you hate people?”

“I don't hate them...I just feel better when they're not around."

— Charles Bukowski, excerpt from his book Barfly

Have you ever been caught

between bitterness and eternity? Like myself — on a day like yesterday, when thinking was less a pastime than a pain as my patience with the public waned. All I could do was think butterflies and fly up, up, and away, right

into the dreamcatcher of tomorrow, out in the great wide open, where the mind should have more time to discover and freedom to uncover idylls and language buried beneath an embankment of rhetorical rubble, frolicking in meadows of rustic charm, wondering what to

do with words like bucolic. Bukowski would've spewed it with pride. In spite of him being an old cuss of a big pill, Chuck lived and was nonchalantly chill, but knew exactly how and when to tell life to fuck off and go to hell. So, why

waste a metaphor on the man next door, when there's already enough certainty to accept the ideal that deep down the animosity we sometimes feel is a festering, self-inflicted sore. So,

cauterize it with some Everclear or moonshine. It'll do you fine. Though, it's nothing more than damage control, since there'll be more pills to swallow.

Bitterness taunts the felicity of life, leaning on a drudged up grudge, or waiting for a penny to drop before

the truth dawns is more a pantomime of critical thought than a pastime.

Solitude should never be in agony of grieving a life less lived, cleverly disguised by its own bitter reality.

Thanks to J.D. Harms for this Saturday prompt:

2021 MDSHall is a poet and a creative, who is the creator and curator of The Bazaar of the Bizarre and a submissions editor for The POM, living in Illinois, also writing in association with the Writes of Passage, “forged on the wordwrights’ anvil,” and Lingua: Ex Libris Life, because as Albert Camus said, “to create is to live twice.”