I am connected to those before me
Connected to Kerouac by ream of unrolled paper
Connected to Hemingway by alcohol and cats with six toes
Connected to Poe by hysteria and night
Connected to Blake, to Thompson, to Ginsberg, to Frost, to Dylan, to Chaucer, to God, to you, to me
We are all connected by the mighty cosmos
We are all connected by lies
But I am no prophet no seer of truths
I am no soothsayer nor angel
I am who I am
A country boy hipster with his head in the ground and feet on the clouds
A wanderer and studier of life and death
A perpetual student ever learning but never knowing
A man, a child, a boy playing with his toys
I know no more than I did before
Which was none
I am son of a pastor and smoker of leaf
Alcoholic, asshole, mongerer, pothead, lover, Jesus
I am son of a teacher and speaker of words
Hippie, redneck, bitch, yeti, loser, Death
Many titles I own in the supermarket of thought
None of which are true none of which are false
I am who I am my life my own
I drink and smoke and swear and fuck and yell and live and love
My middle finger presented proudly to the world like an erect cock to eager asshole
I will not bow down
I will not give in
I will not obey
I will not listen
I will live my life
I will chase happiness
I will act wildly
I will curse the gods of old
I will and will not
So label what I do and how I act however you want
I will label it life and live it