MANIC MUNCHIES...FOR THOUGHT

At the behest of greatness
I dip the ore of my anxiety
into your excited hands
outstretched
forgiving,
and beat the fist of my well born intensions
into half baked schemes
predicated on the frenzy of fame,
money, not mine -
fleeting power,
made real only within stiff corruption
daydreams remade
in concrete logic.

There are so many kinds of riches…
only one is gold,
the rest a tinny echo;
of the boy I was -
man I used to be,
conflicted but pure,
and genuine as cucumber dip
without the curdles
of sellout sweat
mingling with your cream cheese.

Bite down -
Hard!
…and measure the length of fame,
money,
and power replete
by my girth of intentions
cut off at the pass.