I’d like to love again
Days gone by in a
Conceptual state of mind
Realism my best friend
And worst enemy

I’d like to love again
Evenings pass by in a
Manic state of mind
Memories a close treasure
And haunting burden

I’d like to love again
Years pass by in a
Callous state of mind
Ethos my arduous procurement
And grossly arduous to sustain

Parents would prefer kids stay away
from these three jobs,
cause as they'd say
There's no way to make any money.
At least you can sell paintings with art
or hock a few bucks with albums from your music.

No parents encourage children into any of these gigs,
especially prophecy.
Today, a kid would be fed pills for breakfast
if they expressed any interest in becoming the next Jesus or Buddha.

Suppose Moses decided to go try an open mic comedy night
instead trading his commandments for a set list
but I bet his adopted parents would have lectured him just the same.
At least Moses would have gotten a few laughs.

The job descriptions are strikingly similar,
just like the outcome
a 50% chance the audience will applaud and chant
or watch you in heavy, maudlin silence... sweating nervously struggling
to maintain a sane face while raucous thoughts of loathing and doubt chew then spit out pieces of heart and soul forcing a confrontation of an emasculated existence for five to seven minute while....

whoa, hi, sorry.
Must've been having a flashback for a few seconds,
forgive me.

There is a difference though,
in the mindset of this trio.
A poet knows they're crazy,
a comic ponders if they're nuts
while a prophet thinks everyone else is just cuckoo.

I can see why parents don't want you to
go near these three jobs,
problem being, it's more of a calling than a culling,
and once it's answered,
all I can say is, well...




good luck.....






have fun.

strange bedfellows we do make
where have i heard that
but looking at you
next to me
              asleep
looking peaceful
i know that this is true
i wouldn't have picked you
   from a crowd
but you picked me
and i gave it a chance
out of loneliness, maybe
      ... feeling *****, quite possibly
and i'm glad i did
because strange can be good
when it comes to bedfellows.

i like being alone
but something tells me i shouldn't
i do not want to cave
and become what is expected
which is so far from what i want
the tug of war inside of me
    is exhausting
for when i think i've finally found
       peace
the other half wants normalcy
which is so far from what i want
the sordid looks tell me
     silly isn't good
the grunts and head shaking tells me
   weird isn't accepted
and the admonishment tells me
   i'm really not loved
           or am i
what really worries me, though
   is my own doubt
of what i'm feeling in my heart
           to be true to self.