The honourable suicide
He didn't mean to, but it just went on that way.
He just loved life his own way,
scrapping his career, abandoning himself
to ecstasy alone, the joy of living,
making all the best of it to the extreme,
maniacal perhaps and drunk most of the time,
but always beautiful as character and lovable,
the handsomest of young men in his prime,
a prophet when advanced in years
surviving constantly himself and all his falls,
disasters, rehabilitations, pitfalls, accidents,
and so on, an incurably consistent Via Crucis
until finally he just could no more get up on his feet,
gave up and died a total wreck in bed.
Did he do wrong, in scrapping all this world
and caring nothing fot its global suicide,
openly refusing any part of its destructive stress,
denouncing all responsibility for a diseased society
and just determinedly in flying colours partying
his whole life unto death? He did the best of it
and more, and everybody loved him.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2007-06-27 at 10:27
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