Old School

Gotta face your own truths eventually.

Sometimes it hurts.

And sometimes it's fun.

I am the hippest man you'll find,

and lately Barb said this to me,

that I have the finest mind

of the sixteenth century,

for I live in a state of grace,

not wreathed in dust upon a shelf,

where men and women know their place

and live in God's own sense of self.

The world may dance its merry tune,

but I'm not in the least upset.

It is not spinning to its doom,

and will come to ken this, yet,

that the finest life to choose

is bullets, Bible, and cheap booze.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is REVERSE.

Going back's what I don't do,

for in the lack there's sorrow,

and so I will laugh and push through 

unto my bright tomorrow 

in which my health will be restored,

and my heart will beat to run

as by time-keepers I am scored

through a sprinting mile of fun,

and then I'll drop on the green grass,

winded but with happy smile,

thinking of those that I did pass 

with speed and grace and yeah, with style,

knowing that to win the race

you need to leap and grab God's grace.

Four minutes. OK.

Sylvia is rolling her eyes. She's good at that.