The Spirit Of Our Age

A man walks into a bar….
Or maybe he doesn’t
That is the spirit of our age.
Indecision or ambiguity.
How can one really know?
As my old man would say
He either does or he doesn’t.
You can’t be and not be at the same time.
Although many are trying.
From whence assholes come.

Of course we have a way to know for sure.
After all, all things are knowable, aren’t they?
If he has beer on his breath
And peanut skins in his teeth
Or the sweet aroma of scotch, bourbon or gin
And a bar stool ass, wide as a double load
We know he walked into a bar.
But, alas, that’s not the spirit of our age.
Better to hedge our bets
So we make him both. In and not in.
Safer to just believe that
And thus believe nothing!
That is the spirit of our age.

But better yet just split reality in two
Right down the middle!
That, after all, is the spirit of our age.
If you do split it down the middle
Does that mean you have only half a reality?
That you can just make up the other half?
Now that is surely the spirit of our age

Maybe there’s not even a bar!
Maybe there’s not even a man!
Even if his ass is as wide as a double load
That is the spirit of our age!

F. Henderson's poetry is drawn from a lifetime on the streets seeking to create the pathways for the oppressed to find their humanity. The struggles, the insights, the hard lessons learned. Anti-social in a world that is anti-human. He has had numerous articles published on American History and the Law and has now added poetry to his arsenal of weapons against this anti-human society we reside in. Read other articles by F..