High Horse

It was upon my too high of a horse I rode.
When I fell into a big fat thatch,
Of stewed prunes.
And I knew,
There had to have been...
Someone observing closely,
My overdone and pretentious attitude.
For too long to assume,
I was in need to eliminate and cleanse...
Whatever kept my nose and butt,
As if stuck in the air carrying a load.
Seeking a quick and inexpensive release,
That would relieve my derriere.
From being plugged up on appetizing,
On self importance and impressions made.
To have others believe me to be that way.
Yet...
Incapable to admit,
An urgency to rid...
All the toxic reactive crap,
Stirring up inside of me.
Although fearing to let go,
Of a personae I created.
Just to have others perceive,
I was full of B.S.
But someone knew,
A brewing up stewed prunes...
Would do the trick to get me off,
My too high of a horse.
On it for the unnecessary purpose,
To please what I thought...
Had been an acceptable performance.

'Whew!
I wish I had this remedy a long time ago.'

'And if you did,
Would you feel better about yourself,
Riding higher on a pony?
Adapting to a quick cleanse,
May change one's appearance.
However...
It is one's attitude and view of life,
That should always stay grounded!'

'Uh...
Gee.
I don't have anything to say.'

'It's the pits!'

'Huh?'

'Pitless prunes does the trick.
Folks who feel their lives to live,
Are in the pits?
Are usually the nose raisers.
Self deceiving and pretentious.'

'That's deep!'

'And...
That's where all the B.S. is kept.
Stuck and plugged up deep.
Needing from those high places,
To be eliminated for what it is.'

'Uh...
Are you talking about dieting?'

'Well...
What change to make it...isn't?