Refugees of Reason

That Little Prick

– for Jason

A safety pin gone awry,
the pointy end has slipped by,
threatening to offend
and stick itself into my affairs.

That's what you get when you try
to keep a worn out garment
held together by the worn threads
of ideas gone by;
when you need it most, it has slipped its post,
the support lost
where support is needed most.

"Exactly what is needed!" you say;
so many cut from that same worn cloth.

But that little prick has lost its use;
useless to do a job it was fashioned for;
it's time has passed and run its course,
as one tries to hide the parts
no one wants to see,
to keep in place
parts that are make believe.

To pass those few in the street;
those very few
with their new tuxedos and evening gowns,
the one's we see in magazines,
the one's that fashion the pins and cloth
to adorn and dress the rest of us;
they keep us fashioned in our worn ways,
subject to their whims and what they say!

It's time to cut this Gordian knot,
time to cast aside these worn raiments;
not for others, no hand me down these,
but as rags, they'll do,
to wipe away the grease and muck
(before we are stained for eternity),
and be free of this little prick.

~gtk