Sunday, September 30, 2018

Criterion

Writing for the sake of writing
Rhyming for the hell of it
Posting for its routine
Continuing lest I forget

That I'm a writer - see?
Here is the everlasting proof
Years and pages and stacks of it -
Couldn't possibly be a goof

Couldn't be a one time thing -
Couldn't be a phase -
Has to be who I am
For how else could I amaze?

The one thing I'm good at -
Well, that's a slight lie
The one thing I was always sure of -
Sure it'd be here until I die

But, look - life's longer than I thought
Time drags on so slow
While falling away so fast
How was I to know?

That finding Time for writing -
This Time that drags and speeds -
Gets harder the more you try -
Tending to other needs

But still I try to force it
Because if not a writer, who am I?
With all my stories and fictions
Is my persona my biggest lie?

But the years and pages and stacks -
So much proof could never cling
To a truthless fiction
Well, that's just the thing -

For with so much proof
How could I ever have a second thought
Unless the truth was flimsy -
And in a circle I am caught

Round and round my mind goes -
Truths and lies mixing, darker and brighter
Until one sure thing breaks the surface -
Shaking a fist at me, yelling - "I am a writer!"

Saturday, September 15, 2018

Hold On

I don't want to fight
Holding on so tight
Try to make it right
Use all your might
I'm not trying to dim my light
If I take flight
I'll come back down for you
These words are true
Nothing I'd rather do
Than hold on tight too

But I'm growing older
Can't always stay at your shoulder
I have to grow bolder
Have to go where it's colder
Out from under your wing
I cannot bring
Any childhood thing
Have faith in your king

Trust me too
As I do for you
This is long overdue
No need for rescue
I'm not going astray
Can't always stay
Don't have as much time to play
Can't always let you pay
Come what may
I must go make my own way

Sunday, September 2, 2018

Between The Lines

Beating hearts and fists
Feel much the same
Let it bother you not
O, few can win this game

Bothered still we be
Minds ever occupied
Truths nudging us onward
O, none cut and dried

Bruising hearts and stone
O, structured as we are
We're ever holding back
Good and bad with brick and tar

O, still emotion flows forth
On and on it shines
Through crevices and cracks
In the hidden meaning between the lines