241. Trying.

"After a many-month stint of being hard on myself for not writing as much as I felt I should be, Tim Sanders, on a walk around Greenlake in Seattle, reminded me that I wasn't gonna pour out a satisfying poem every time I sat down to type. He told me to just go write and not be afraid of writing something that sucks." - Buddy Wakefield.


So here's my comeback. I always enjoy reading that quote...as it gives me sort of a reassurance that the only person placing expectation on me is me.

WAY OF THE WORLD

It's the way of the world
such a pity the falling of a stand up girl.
Tears of experience drip on lined paper
and the dreams of tomorrow wash away without see you later.
And can anything be greater than hearing a clock
knowing time keeps going and you haven't a clue what you've got.
See I'm a jealous girl when it comes to the world,
We've punched and danced and screamed and twirled
but the funny part about the earth
is our one certainty is our gift of birth.
We wobble and tangle the knots of our future
and spend the rest of the time unwinding our suture.
Like surgeons we rise to every deathly occasion,
and I dust my knees off after every abrasion.
Nothing is certain and nothing seems real
unless you count charm, wit, and sex appeal.
I tend to count them out as truth is underrated,
and if honesty was a person then I'm sure we would have dated.
As I sit on the concrete writing in the rocks
to rock my own globe with my freshest pair of ankle socks
and poems from my mind.
All i want is time
All I have is a gun
I'm under it
Tick
Tick
Tick
Cry no more and lick my sore pick myself from off the floor and I need to go explore.
Nothing is handed and I'll lend my hand,
my future is as certain as a wall made out of sand.
Keep believing in my talent
Keep believing in my rhymes
Tick tock my watch blew up and I no longer see the time.


I guess it's just the way of the world.