PAD Day 20: Rebel, Rebel

Today's dual prompts from Poetic Asides and NaPoWriMo: (1) write a "rebel" poem, and (2) take a line from one of your poems (preferably one you have written this month) and begin a new poem with it.

I took Robert's prompt a step further: I compiled the last lines from all 22 poems I've written so far this month, and used as many of them as I could, with a few editorial changes. I promised myself to create a poem entirely of these last lines, except for the very last line which would be new.  Here is my list of last lines, in no particular order (although I did tinker with their order a bit to get ideas on how they would fit together):

Look, the Old Fart Has a Hobby

he has just destroyed below

the loom still running

after they plow your stump under

who just had nothing left in the tank

will soon be bare in the end

on my no-fly list of vegetables

I love your flavor

who want to interpret your dreams

and jumping out of it when they do

drifts over the middle stripe in the road

into whatever utopia you've imagined

but know some words just sound like babble

over the telephone

they looked like tears

please save your laments

I'm not done climbing yet

I should have taken better care of myself

and maybe I feel guilty, but I'm smiling too

the saying would be, "The early worm gets the bird."

Just you wait - I’ll Make the Empire Great Again!

...and here is the poem that came out of them. I actually used seventeen last lines (again, with some minor changes), and the title uses parts of two other lines. I guess it's a "rebel" poem in the same sense as Dylan Thomas's "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night".

The Old Fart Flips the Bird

You may be destroyed below

while the loom is still running.

After they plow your stump under,

you, who have nothing left in the tank,

will soon be bare in the end.

You should have taken better care of yourself,

and maybe you feel guilty, but you're smiling too.

If they want to interpret your dreams,

jump out of them when they do.

Drift over the middle stripe in the road

into whatever utopia you've imagined,

but know some words just sound like babble

over the telephone.

Tell them, please save your laments-

I'm not done climbing yet.

They may look like tears

but you love their flavor

and the last laugh is the ultimate joke.