Without Decay..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

when we write
and promise to commit ourselves
to the beauty of our words,
eventually, our hearts get
inflamed, like the way it gets
fire from our
heated brains.
when we continue with this
commitment, based on experience,
our tummies get bloated,
I guess, there is so much air
inside, just like the air
in our heads,
and then we feel so lazy,
we belong to the world of words,
and taken away from the world
of the hands
as the feet died waiting for
the promised dance.
I had been writing, and I had
become one misshapen body,
and my friends told me about this
ugly transformation, and warn me
that if nothing is done about
this, they will soon disown me.
I am not a thing, I tell myself,
no one owns me and so they cannot
disown me either.
i am irregularly shaped now.
words talk, and they say, I am
no longer myself.
despite all these happenings
grotesque as they are,
I still keep on writing,
having put everything of my life
in the promise of words
that at the end
the words of my redemption shall
come to my rescue,
immortalized in the sky
of a certain
tomb.
the words of stone,
the final words
without decay.