Poetry is honesty
Dipped in
Chocolate
Or poo
Depending on the poet’s mood

Is it passion
Or insanity
Are the two
Really one
And the same
Separated by success
Insanity if you lose the game
And passion if you win
Even if you’re obsessed
Encouraged and egged on
Making money
There’s no need to rest
Try your best
They say
But that’s really a lie
Depending upon what you try
Some are the best alcoholics
You ever did see
The drinker feels very passionate
About his insanity
Some are the best in business
That means they’ve achieved
Permissible insanity
They call passion
But really
It’s all the same to me

I have no idea
Which ideas you have
Nor do I want to hear
(****, man!  Nothing rhymes with have)
And this is relevant to me and you
We do not rhyme
And you must know that to be true

Failure is certainly an option
In fact, it’s probably how it will be
If I ever admit
I’ll no longer compete
As long as I keep trying
I haven’t really lost
And so
Here I am
Not winning like a boss

I want to know me
But how can that be?
My mind is my only knowing tool
And it is capable of delusion
I want to believe
I’m good and trustworthy
But my eyes see
Grey areas and excuses
Slanted favorably
Towards me

Your loss, boo
Though you’ll never feel it
Missing something you never knew
Hitting me much harder than it hits you
But that don’t make the loss less true
Just because you never knew

No apologies
You never owed a thing to me
And everything I gave was free
I should be thanking you
For treating me respectfully
You could have made a circus show
With me the number one clown
You gave me a reason to grow
And did not let me down
Thank you
Thank you
Sir
You’ve been a noble man
And I know it ain’t going anywhere
But I dream because I can