29 posts
I will not live my whole life just to spite
one more imagined evil at my door,
some cloud determined to block out my light,
or leave my spirit destitute. No more.
Why be a tool for either left or right,
when a binary choice is still piss-poor?
You’re always wrong when you pick just one side,
and where you end depends on how you ride.
Who in the world do we believe we are,
imagining our words alone suffice
to change the future’s course or shift our stars?
How much can you expect for that small price?
So little fuel will take us just so far.
What’s worth achieving takes some sacrifice;
the answer is never a lower bar,
unless your goal is a fool’s paradise.
What would become of me without ambition,
a driving force to make some kind of mark,
to cast my feeble light out in the dark
and so improve my overall condition.
To otherwise behave suggests perdition,
a life led without purpose or benchmark.
What would become of me?
Poetry does not need to be pretty.
It is a distillation of images, of ideas,
to their primary essence.
Poetry is not about cleverness,
although you have to smart to use it well.
Maybe not book-smart,
but your eyes need to see the world
as it is, as it could be, and as it was:
and each in the other two.
In retrospect, I should have known:
if the world changes, you have grown. Doesn’t mean
it’s all neat and clean. You’re shown
maybe a thing or two, alone.
You have a choice. Choose to care.
It matters how you get there; the end
depends on it. So beware:
life’s not a solo affair.
What good to write when so few have the time to do much more than nod and swipe me gone? Opinions vary, but to ramble on
without an audience seems wasted and sublime. Besides, what difference can a few short lines make when the world needs changing, not anon, but here and now, before the chance is gone?
Your path begins there at your feet; the first move is the hardest one. Until the last step is complete you will not know the task is done.
Along the way, you’ll see the world; you’ll wonder why, and how, and when, and sift through miles of sand, and pearls, each whole day through, and then again.