Get Happy

Or high, in men folk company, a mental touch,

with that essence of pals which permeates loneliness

and might facetiously be called mateship, lived

almost unrecognizable, in by blokes, actually,

by a regular turning to the very innermost,

in the deepest consciousness of the wart-hog,

for politeness thereby, turning to alcohol for light,

warmth, and invigoration, consumed, consciously,

realizing that to turn inward is to bloat within,

talking in the presence of a boast, the unreality of loss,

that side turned into, then inflated is the skin bin,

and lost is the attitude for bodily health as such,

because that comes of itself, as an incidental result,

found by a special mental act and desire to lose it,

forthwith that general attitude of the braggart,

the object of life, these outer things so wildly sought,

lived and died for, that bring strength and happiness,

as come of themselves in knockabout accessories,

the mere outcome of a high life sunk deep

in the bosom of camaraderie, real denying of boredom,

the desire for the decadency of wellness,

the proof of the reality of the perfect poise

in the foreboding promise of belonging.