September 23, 2013


The words I read
Those planted seeds
Growing deep within

I have taken my measure
And found myself wanting

For some it pours forth
And fluidly responds to
Their clever incantations

I sputter and spit and
Make a pleasant mess

Some days I feel so brave and bold
Some days my demons take hold
Other days I just feel damned old

Yet I never feel the sweet satisfaction
Of knowing I’ve got my shit together

You clever wizards
Culling and carving
Delicately painting

I left the lid loose on my bucket
And all my paint has dried up
Maybe I should just say ‘Fuck it’

But that is something I cannot do
And I know I must remain true

For each word is important
Even if not dressed so fine
Or does not quite rhyme

So separate the wheat from the chaff
And if nothing else have a good laugh

I hope that you’ll read
And plant these seeds
To grow deep within

1 comment:

  1. I have so often found myself at the cross roads of "I can't complete" and "I shall be heard". The bottom line is that writing aids ME. I don't do it so much to please others, as to firm up my own position when all the pieces seem to want to float from view. There will always be those who do things "better" and with less effort than we do. There will always be those that do "worse" and have to try harder. It is what it is. But what we write still needs saying.


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