I’m Not a Rock

I’m not a rock
I’m not an island
I’m someone who, as he’s gotten older
No longer pretends to smile and
Look the other way if things are wrong.
And I refuse to sing the same old songs

Or complain about young people

I like to fly as high as hawks
And drink as much coffee and beer as I want
And when it comes to punching clocks
I use my fist

I love to dance like a major fool
And wear whatever isn’t cool
And never comb my hair or shave
And misbehave
Just for the hell of it

I spit at targets in the street
And pick my nose
In my bare feet
I ride streetcars to where they take me
And sleep as much as I want
Unless something should wake me

And yell and holler and giggle and squeal
Whenever I feel
At the moon and the stars of Hollywood
And smoking dope and feeling good

And laughing like a hyena
At the total absurdedness
Of people living in ignorant glee
Whose minds know only herdedness
While harboring illusions of being free

People tell me I’m unhinged
And I say, “Great – no fun being hinged”
Then they sniff and widely roll their eyes
Conveying how much they despise
People. Like. Me
Their loss

When the cart I’m in rolls to a stop
And the time comes that I must get off
I imagine some at me will scoff
For having been a person daft

I hope they do
Cuz I’ll have gotten the last laugh