Short poem on poetry
I will lift my head. Despite a childhood spent bowing under blows. Now, I will lift my head. Despite a childhood spent touched by dirty grownup hands. Now, I will lift my head. Now, Now, I must lift my head. Please, help me lift my head.
All this, everything that moves in this moving world,What is it in the face of YOU?Just erasable writing on a board,Just tears fallen in a pool.
If there was a second youI might go for a second viewI might travel wide, travel farAll to get back with youBut alas, we've metAnd there's just one of youAnd there's just one of meAnd there's just, just an old storyAnd we know, both of us, Where it ends, where it burstsYes we know, both…
Blame is an easy baton to pass aroundWhen you know you've done nothingEventually, this little game, this entertainment,This is what will burn our little blue planetDistractions, ignorance, lack of responsibility,Fear of facing one's true face, and not doing something about it.The end has never felt so close. And we'll flirt with it, flirt with that…
It's a kiss I missed, a kiss I should have caught.But I let it slip, and I let the moment pass.And now all I've got is a memory of a path not takenAnd my mind, to imagine all it could have led to.
I must thank Night for the truths she whispers when she comesI must thank Day for showing me the error in all those thoughtsBut sometimes Night is right,And Day has only wrong to sayFor Night, when alone, is dreams, is freedom, unshackled thought,While Day is surrounded, crowded by other minds--ideas lashing in the air.