five hundred words are not enough to say all the things I need to say but five hundred poems are **** sure enough on hello poetry to get noticed
alas, I write poetry for the sake of poetry just like good ole Charles Bukowski cranking out words with a foul mouth without a care for the audience
I write words for the sake of my soul because it is the only time that my heart feels free to be whatever it needs to be without the world confining me
so **** straight. I wrote five hundred words for my five hundredth poem because I rarely write so many words to express what is in my soul
I should be listening to jazz while I write this just like Kerouac so my words will have a beat and rhythm of the sounds of bebop, instead of a cadence of all my own who wants originality when you can have novelty
everyone is nostalgic to recreate what has been captured before the great writers and poets of our time regurgitate what’s been said for me I don’t really give a **** about the words, so much as how I let the words live out into my life through my actions
words matter because they order our thoughts and feelings, they give shape to the amorphous images that play in our minds and hearts and once something comes into being, then oh man man do they have power that’s why knowing the name of something really means something
who knows if meaning comes from the words, or words come from the meaning did the chicken came first or the egg? all I care about is how you cook the ****** chicken or the egg fried chicken and I prefer my egg sunny side up
Bukowski eat your heart out as I write my stream of consciousness five hundred word poem for my five hundredth poem is it getting a bit redundant? I am a firm believer that less is more
but sometimes I want my words to beat out like they used to on old type writers like a **** machine gun the beat flowing like the drums of a marching band that gives life to even the worst of brass section
I don’t know if my heart can truly sing in a sea of so many words I prefer capturing a single moment with 10 words, maybe 20 words anything more than that feels like a waste just like a coffee ice cream ruined by too much toppings
I am a minimalist at heart even though I can’t declutter my stuff holding onto old forgotten receipts closet full of clothes I never wear
however, on most days my mind is clutter free old resents are shoved out fear written and jotted away the book of the past closed
each day is a gift freely given each breath new
may you be blessed may we keep sharing for fun and for free