not bow down

I will not bow down, you say,
but you slump over the floor,
each day you pry yourself
from the bed
you stumble half-dead
and stoop to take a dump,
you succumb to nature,
you bow down to tie your shoes
since you’ve decided to walk,
and haven’t bowed to death, yet,
and you go off to work
while you think of the heroes
in your head, whom you worship,
and then your stomach growls
and you bow to its needs
and humbly feed it,
but you won’t bow down,
any day,
you won’t sell out
until your wants come out,
then you run,
everyday you must succumb,
you must submit,
admit it,
you must bow down

c. 2001, 2008 Evan Gilling


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