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Sisyphus in the Land of Sorrow

No longer waiting for my cream rise to top
nor my rock to not unroll
cuz that boat will never sail
in fact wasn’t even made
and its flag don’t fly
its tank is empty
its tires flat
and engine froze
no happy after fame and fortune
cuz unhappy race is base of game
no matter which rung you on
unless you let go
voluntarily
for real
and fuck fame
fuck fortune
live life
hug wife
pet cat
and of course
sip the coffee and toke the smoke
to set the yet for rising sun

– Smith, 12.16.2017

WINEDRUNK SIDEWALK: SHIPWRECKED IN TRUMPLAND
FIGHTING THE POWER SINCE JANUARY 20, 2017

Have another poem on Winedrunk Sidewalk — https://winedrunksidewalk.blogspot.com/2017/12/day-three-hundred-and-thirty.html.

Editor Publisher John Grochalski is publishing a different poet’s protest post every day Trump is in office

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