Writing in a stab at immortality
Because once published on the internet with links like cobweb tendrils spreading
Even post deletion on website does not erase the infinite shadows of other links.
So the trove of erotic poetry remains, even though deleted by the author,
not merely on typing paper in a file, in a bookcase. It proliferates inexorably
In the hive mind of my Facebook friends and remains there, coloring their perceptions of me.
Now and forever, because once published, it should be considered permanent.
So creative souls have big egos, knowing their work is forever.
Woody Allen famously quoted: “I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work. I’d rather achieve it by not dying.” Ironic wit, therefore funny.
Most humans achieve endless existence by virtue of procreation. They attempt to fashion mini copies of themselves, called children.
Then disillusionment as the Mini-me diverges into individuality
and evinces the worst traits of your chosen mate. Teen rebellion, secrets, lies,
Abandonment all around, pregnancy, booze, opioid painkillers, black-outs,
texting in a speeding crosswalk, at the wheel, heroin, Narcan, rehab, relapse,
No money, no problems, just id: all desire.
How much are they Mini-me now?
We didn’t have their tech then, or their distractions.
Human evolution hasn’t kept up with advances in technology.
The people of the USA have elected an egotistical tyrant who is not much different than the North Korean dictator and the two are on a collision course because of pride.
The world will pay for this, and the children, those that survive, will berate their progenitors, whose only aim was to make copies of themselves.
All have failed SPECTACULARLY. Millions will die in fire and fury at the hands of men who will not zip up their trousers when the camera is on them.
I for one did not want to be alive when that day came.
I’m sure all parents do not want to leave such an inheritance to their progeny.
But sadly, this writing is prophetic. Prepare yourselves.