Saturday, 21 August 2010

It's About Time

Ouch.

So, I think it's time to write something that isn't "poetry" (i.e. has no rhyme, metre, or verse). Is it safe to do so? Will I say something that comes off completely wrong? Honestly, I haven't the foggiest. Of course I'm not going to try to be misunderstood; I don't seek conflict out. It does have a funny way of finding me, though, and I have the worst knack for getting in trouble via misunderstanding ever.

Heavens above, I can't believe
What on earth is happening to me?
I thought I knew, but it's not true
I'm just headed for a cliff and I'm trying to run,
But the wind it's pushing me and sometime soon
I'm just going to fall.

I tried to resist, but the rhyme sucked me in
And now I'm writing poetry again
It's got rhyme, and it's got verse,
Though for a poem it might be my worst
All the same, it's easier to say
What's on my mind, what I've thought today
By writing it like poetry.

I feel one way, I get pulled another
It's getting tiring, this "not one way or the other"
I want to know what I have to do,
I want a plan that I know is true
I'm so sick of having all my schemes
Turned inside out by false opportunities

I'm not going to college, I'm staying here
But I'd rather be almost anywhere
Not because I don't like my home
But I can hear it calling me, and it says, "Roam"

I'm torn between wanting what's in the past
And looking ahead, past what's been lost
I can't stand the thought of another day
Hovering without a word to say
Whether I want to head up north,
Or whether it's south I'll be looking towards

Do you know the feeling? I wish you could
It's a terrible feeling, a feeling that should
Be reserved for only those metaphorically blind
Lost in the land, the land without time
Now I'm just rhyming with nothing to say
But I can't stand these missed opportunities
Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever give up
On what I almost had, but now has slipped
Out of my fingers, without my will
It's making me crazy, it's making me ill
I'm sounding a little like Dr. Seuss
If I wasn't so dark, I could be Mother Goose
The truth is, friend, I just want somebody
I can trust, I can love, who can be my buddy
And yes, I hate that word I've just used,
But I couldn't think of anything else to do
Body rhymes with body, but that won't work
And all my other options made me even more of a dork
This verse is getting long, but I'm scared to break it
I'm tense and I'm hurt and I'm not gonna make it

Don't get the wrong impression from this poem of mine
I'm just relieving my stress, clearing my mind
I thought I could do it by writing prose,
But I'm sick of all the words that I wanted to use
So I slipped into this, and now you've got
What I decided to write, but wanted to not

I feel a little lonely, down here in Carolina
All my friends are gone or left me, and I think I'm dyin'
I'll live, I'll survive, I might even thrive
Don't worry about this last one, I just had to make it rhyme
Now I'll leave you standing, and maybe wondering
"What in the world did he mean in his thing?
"Was he trying to tell us all something profound?
"Or was it just a mess of words he's throwing around?"
The answer, guys, is simple: I'm just exercising
You should try it some time, it's really quite reviving

4 comments:

  1. You probably didn't mean it to, but this desperate poem made me smile. It sounds like the words started falling out of your pen against your will and while you were busy trying to corral them and stuff them back in, they played around and danced, mischievously stamping themselves onto the page making up a poem to get you in trouble. :S

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  2. Haha, I don't mind if it gave you a laugh. Laughs are always good.

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