ON INDISCIPLINE

It is the true merit

Of life

That it opens up

Through indiscipline
To live the life of this moment
To learn from all

But be disciple to none

The decision to go one’s own way.

Routine decadence

Follows up in disciplines wake

Eating up the time

With the predictable

Useless and repetitious

That tether one to time and space

Against one’s will.

The disciplined marry it

Early on

And succumb to its mechanics

So that something new

Becomes a taboo subject.

The cadet lends his body

To apparels and marching tunes

The gun shots

That ring emptily in his mind

In spite of finding the target in another’s body

The passivity of everyday death

And killings go unregistered.

Life is to relentlessly

Circumscribe it

To go beyond the bend

To look at the yellow bird

That calls out to you

Even if sometimes only to miss it.

Life is hard to live

But to die of habituation

Is slow suicide

To which each tend to succumb.

Sometimes indiscipline itself turns into a discipline
Which some follow ardently
To take to routine in something such
Is also but another discipline
Which one could only escape with an understanding
And purpose that may go beyond pure pleasure
And its pains.

This is not to say that all that one does is original

But at least

With the love of god

One can see the other spaces

Because in life nothing repeats

And one is warned

To drain life to the dregs.