perfection is a myth that we try to overcome anytime, we can do our thing without pressure certainty might not always be on our side, and it may take time to gain strength, will, and courage nevertheless, let perfectionism victim none of us; let us grow and succeed within our own ways and time.
in this times, let this be a reminder written 24 apr 2020
Try utilizing meter and form Stanzas that can be adored Not necessarily rhyming Though at least include some pacing Prose riding rhythm Consider a little alliteration Free verse certainly has merit But too often excuses ****. Give us not what is convenient, But that which is brilliant.
Always, One unwilling to partake in your portentous ****
Yes, I think there is a lot of great contemporary poetry and poets, as much as any other genre, but I just feel free prose is abused not for its brilliance, but for the apparent convenience people seem to think it affords them.
Have you ever been so enraged that you literally can not stop moving, walking, pacing back and forth back and forth
back and forth? It's the same type of rage that makes your hands go numb and your brain leave your body. The kind of thing that leads to other things like bad decisions, mistakes, proving people wrong, crying tears that burn like Fireball and 151.
Who knew the impossible was achievable in hazy fits of rage and uncertainty?
Because maybe a relapse is worth it if it makes the *** stop boiling over, the fumes dissipate, the glass put itself back together.
Judgement c l o u d e d, vision c l o u d e d, foggy brain means you feel nothing, hear nothing, become nothing.
Slowly spiraling down, up getting ****** into a black hole and it doesn't even matter because at least in there you can't be angry.