Great oaks and elms,
He dared to climb and lived to tell,
To trample fallen acorns, burst their chestnut helms—
The kind of man who never fell,
Whose ego rose and swelled—
Smoke off his hand-rolled cigarettes,
Hydroponic weed: Inhaled, expelled—
The kind of man no one “gets,”
Self-proclaimed tortured artist:
Goethe and Rilke, Salvador Dalí, Vivre Sa Vie, and Alphaville—
He thought himself inspired, the smartest,
The kind of man I suffer, still,
And though I may have given in, may have given more,
It wasn’t meant to be . . . he was only 5’4.
