"wannabes" poems
You get the know it alls
Their noses stuck rigidly in books like bookmarks
You get the geeks
Gamers with eyes shrunk; shiny braces flashing
You get the quiet ones
Assessing everything going on; owlish blinks
You get the cheeky ones
Hilarious antics all around; always surprising
You get the nosy ones
With obnoxious questions and averting eyes
You get the prissy neat freaks
Panicking religiously over messes; loud moaner
You get the bossy buck tooth's
Spit spraying whilst barking out orders; drone-like
You get the wannabes
*Prepping up as the popular chicks; total **** ups*
And you get me
With total judgement and disdain evident
Making me a **classic ***** ; plastic
With her typical high school stereotypes
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 5:35 AM UTC
Hare Krishna's
In their Pickups
Depressed Comics
Down on their Luck
Teenage Girls
Screaming Meme's
****** Pinko's*
Leftward Leaning
Vincent Price
Flo and Eddie
Rodger Rabbit
Priscilla Presley
Nuns in Habits
Dwarf's in Ponchos
Deadbeat Dads
Munching Nachos
Right-Wing Nut Jobs
Trading Slogans
A few Hero's
Including Hogan
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Buddhist Monks
With Electric Banjos
Holding Signs Up
Of Marlon Brando
Taxi Cabs
Blaring Show Tunes
Pregnant Women
Down-loading Soon
Derby Jockeys
Flying Monkeys
Kool-Aidholics
Skittle Junkies
Bozo The Clown
Bumper Stickers
Psychedelic
Crazed Toad Lickers
Rhinestone Cowboys
In their Skivvies
Gothic Girls
Heebie Jeebies
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Blue Haired Granny's
In pink Moo Moos
Ballerina's In
Tattered Tutus
Mathematician's
Number Crunchers
Even have Some
Out to Lunchers
Model 50's
*Do *** Daddies*
One More Round Of
Flo and Eddie
People Sneaking
Across the Border
Lonely Fry Cooks
Taking Orders
A Few Wannabes
Not Saying Much
Will The Real Elvis
Please Stand Up
Are just a few of the sights that you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Thank you...Thank you very Much
Ladies and Gentlemen
Elvis...Has Left The Building
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
The music plays and the espresso machines steam and hiss
Feet tap. Fingers type. Phone screens ******
Skinny lattes and peppermint teas. Soy chai teas extra hot.
Peppermint soy latte. New names for familiar poisons.
Flat whites. Cortados. Espressos and macchiatos.
When I grew up, it was just a cup of coffee…
Hipster coffee shops serving to the hip, the wannabes and the lonely
The woman in the leopard skin coat and the man with acne.
Credit cards are swiped and cash machines ring
The business of poisons is thriving in the city.
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 4:15 AM UTC
Yes, it's the racing carnival,
Fashionistas so topical,
Significance trivial,
Eye candy,
Drunk and silly,
Studs in suits,
Looking beaut,
Glitterati,
Haves and wannabes,
For the paparazzi,
Doyens of the racing industry,
You all look fabulous,
Gambling magnanimous,
Thoroughbreds' gloss,
Media hype and dross,
Great racing day,
***** bets and babes,
Stuff the plebs today,
Our city's public holiday,
Melbourne Cup Day!
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 8:40 PM UTC
Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will.
I sure could use a vacation from this
********
three
ring
circus sideshow of
freaks here in this hopeless ******* hole we call L.A.,
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any ******* time. Any ******* day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona Bay.
Fret for your figure and
Fret for your latte and
Fret for your lawsuit and
Fret for your hairpiece and
Fret for your Prozac and
Fret for your pilot and
Fret for your contract and
Fret for your car,
It's a ********
three
ring
circus sideshow of
freaks here in this hopeless ******* hole we call L.A.,
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any ******* time. Any ******* day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona Bay.
Some say a comet will fall from the sky.
Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves.
Followed by fault lines that cannot sit still.
Followed by millions of dumbfounded dipshits.
Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will cause
I sure could use a vacation from this
Stupid **** silly **** stupid ****
One great big festering neon distraction,
I've a suggestion to keep you all occupied:
Learn to swim. [x2]
Mom's gonna fix it all soon.
Mom's coming 'round to put it back the way it ought to be.
Learn to swim.
**** L. Ron Hubbard and **** all his clones.
**** all these gun-toting
Hip gangster wannabes.
Learn to swim.
**** retro anything.
**** your tattoos.
**** all you junkies and **** your short memory.
Learn to swim.
**** smiley glad-hands with hidden agendas.
**** these dysfunctional, Insecure actresses.
Learn to swim.
Cause I'm praying for the end;
I'm praying for tidal waves
I wanna see the ground give way.
I wanna watch it all go down.
Mom, please flush it all away!
I wanna see it go right in and down.
I wanna watch it go right in.
Watch you flush it all away.
Time to bring it down again.
Don't just call me pessimist.
Try and read between the lines.
I can't imagine why you wouldn't
Welcome any change, my friend.
I wanna see it all come down.
**** it down.
Flush it down.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
Superhero heavyweights
Alter ego misfits
Scandalous fall from grace
Public pain and private parties
Golden idol ego trips
Wrath of God
Not wrath of Kahn
Read a book
Take a look around
Stop flying high
Indestructible
Too messed up to see
The damage done
Idolaters be dammed
First commandment
Godless society
Superhero wannabes
Glory and the fame
Microscopes
Expand the putrid that make-up cannot mask
Everybody’s business
Do as you say not as you do
Becomes, monkey see monkey do
Flying high without a net
Newbies falling from the sky
That is not empowerment
Luck is not strategy
And life is not a game
Find importance
Both within and without
Then dawn your cape
And fly away
To help your fellow man
Not just your selfish greed
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 5:31 AM UTC
The Witch
Blessed be! the witch inside,
Look into your minds eye.
Friend of nature, elements and animals.
Down to earth they truly see,
the evil of the tricksters and wannabes.
Should not be punished for their craft,
There is beauty in a witches sacred art.
Witches change with the seasons,
They breath the air of liberation.
Witch is child of light and shadow,
Natures spirit flows within.
A witches roots run deep, their will is strong,
They will stand up for what is right.
Searching and finding, needing and minding,
Wondering when the quest will end.
A witch cannot hide who they are, a pagan child.
All who follow the faith must heed the call.
Written 18th June 2014
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
It doesn't take much, for me to be late in the morning
A bad nights sleep, another day at work, it can be oh so boring
20 minutes, does it really matter, in the grand scheme of things
Jump in the car, radio on,
Same DJ with the X-Factor wannabes wearing their bling
Its a short trip but can still be delayed once more
Further down the road by a woman who makes my head sore....
Hitting the roundabout 2 miles from anywhere
The traffic backs up to give us all a timely scare
What on Earth could delay us on this trip to a place of ethical sanction
As without work our lives would halt without function
Bills to pay and food to buy, we need the income from some money tree
What is holding me up as already late,
Maybe set my alarm earlier but hey, what will be will be
The slow jaunt on the bumper to bumper ride
Its only 10 minutes more but time is not on my side.....
And there she is,
My delay
Luminous in stature holding the road like shes some traffic God
Chatting away to the ladies as if she's PC Plod
Holding that lollipop on her black and yellow stick
She's really starting to get on my wick
Some of us have places to be old lady like she even cares
Kids crossing the road, go play Chicken, like they'd even dare
Really, all in all, she is doing a good job
And there's me rushing and acting like a bit of a......wally!
As if I did knock a child over I'd forever be sorry
Even when it rains she puts up her brolly
Stop the parent and kids from always getting wet
I suppose in the end she is the safer bet
Maybe I will always be late but nothing I can't sort with a brew,
Instead of getting,
Lollipop Lady Blues
JJB
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 7:08 AM UTC
Conduct Unbecoming,
False Poet
Traveling thru the Heart of Love,
like a Worm.
Bring in the Court Martial
Commuter Judge has an Appointing
Stance for Freedom
Held By One
Promised to Protect
Slovenly Surveillance
Given without Permission
An Election Year BONUS
made for Royalty..
Get ready for Deportation
1) 1 Soldier
2) 3 Minister
3) 4 banker
4) 2 doctor wannabes
and a Part Dove in a Pear Tree...
Who wants "Orange and Black" ?
After all
Even Mind Deserve Freedom of Choice
Soldier
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
At the party,
I saw faces
painted passionately
In smiles and laughter;
Eyes sparkling
like Crystal
In every hue of inebriation;
Hands clapping
Extended waves
Of cheerful celebration;
Lips smearing
lavish layers of
Love on captive ears;
Friends toasting
The Life
With Ciroc, Moët and beer;
Hollywood wannabes rocking
Bootlegged Ray-bans
In the dark;
Buzzed ex-lovers
waging battles
Of the heart;
15's smashed
into 10's,
Flashing rolls of flesh;
Uncle Johnny
in his Walkin' glory
Stumbling way past 'when';
'83 Hustlers
in furs and fedoras
Feasting on free treats;
Soul Train rejects
moon-stalking
On two left feet;
iPhones and Samsungs
Making memories
For the curious web;
PotHeads
in the smoky loo
Getting bloodshot red;
At the party,
The living colors
of life
Piqued my creative core...
And
I saw
poetry
in motion...
~ P
(#AtTheParty)
3/3/2014
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
Hundred dollar bills in my pocket
Gold chains around my neck
If you ever mess with me
I'll stiletto yo face
Got that Italian swag
And a personality to match
People say I'm horrible
But no, I'm just a *****
I don't take no ****
From a bunch
Of wannabes
What you see
Is what you get
When it comes
To a girl like me
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 6:33 AM UTC
you see bob delahunty, one da7y developed this website, where he takes people on quests
to find out whether or not really exists, and first stop was jerusealum, where he spoke to a rabbi,
and bob asked the question does GOD exist, and the rabbi said, i can be your saviour where
whenever you need any answers, i can show you, ok,
after that, bob went to the BUDDHIST temple in taibet, and the buddhist nuns said, god is just
a couple of easy answers, we need people to understand that the answer is to mend every blade of grass
and bob left thinking mmmmm interesting, and the muslims said, god, there is no god, but there is mohammad,
and he is the same, as this GOD, and bob went away singing
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD, THE DEVIL, ANNNND BOB
the next part of bobs quest was going over to the catholic church and after 12 minutes of hearing the boring catholic morals
bob went over to the priest, how many children have you ****** today, and priest got offended in what bob asked, and through
bob outside, with the tune going, god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD, THE DEVIL, AND BOB
bob was kicked out of every religious place in the world, so he decided to gather some religious freaks, to form his own religion
going out on the underground to meet different religious people on the street, first was wendy sweeeeet lips who was a ****** by night
nun and helper of the poor by day, and she was nice to bob, ands bob said, i can get a decent **** out of this pretty lady, time and time again
and when the nun was asked to leave the catholic church despite her keeping the ****** bit to herself, she decided to join BOB, religion
by a man named bob, bob had this philosophy, no ugly wannabes, just **** legs and pretty faces
bob asked the hooker-nun, do you think GOD exists, and they said, we don’t hate any religion, but, we hate catholics, because, their morals
are against our good work here, we don’t have a GOD, policy here, we are the face of the devil, but the devil brings happiness,
you know to angry *** crazed men, aren’t they needed to wipe off the angry look, and bob went away, who cares, and sang his song
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD THE DEVIL, WHO IS BOB
and bob said, who cares if i’m the devil
i don’t look at the symbol of jesus nailed to a cross being a symbol of peace
jesus exixts, but the way he is killed is the REAL DEVIL
BECAUSE, all together now
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
GOD, THE DEVIL, AND BOB
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Screaming from the shadows hoping somebody hears ya,
Even though nobody cares to notice ya,
Mindful eyes get left dry but they fall down on ya,
There's no secret to your flaws cause they're exposing ya,
I see the fire in your eyes , you're a tough one,
The cookies don't crumble here but others try to persuade the weak,
Reavaluating life choices and separating the good friends from
The bad friends knowing they all despise ya,
Here! You help me with this one thing and I'll promise you won't
Ever have to see me again , talking with everybody,
So you don't have to live with so much selfhate and doubt in ya,
You're strong,
I'm proud of ya,
You usually don't talk too much,
But out of these wannabes, you're a different breed,
With situations in life that'll make you hang yourself then kick over
The chair if you need,
But don't do that please.
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 11:15 AM UTC
Hold up with that block chain
conflicted economy
keep up the complaints gain
Fall in line with wannabes
Situate yourself into a failing position
Cross the line of chance and miracles without decision
Are you listening to the rhythm or are you trying to glisten on
Shining blindin yourself and everyone you’re walk-in on
Hold a second crazy cuz I’m busy for your hazy mess
Crowded in my head but world is filled with emptiness
Glamour baby
Watch out
Tear at the game
Hear them shout
Test my circuits
Freak out
Sparkin in your eyes
Get down
I’m searching for equality, but let me play don’t bother me
Addicted to the gifted that you try to clone in quantity
Sober up while gettin lit
Fill our cup don’t ever quit
Seeking self control inside of every little hit
Spare the change
Stay the same
It’s a **** shame
We’re all insane
Can’t contain
Past remains
Thinking that we like the pain
Universal consciousness
Never kiss
Heavens bliss
Shake the earth with every moment captivated by a wish
Cold and calculated marketed discrimination
Switch the station work do wages go through phases different stages
Visitation rights to our ancestors blight
Fuel fire engaged engines blast and burn it bright
Out of sight
Out of energy
Not quite, close so let it be
Do you feel me
Come fair to be free
work the weight til they bury me
Commemorate the warriors, fighting behind enemy lines, with idols and worshippers for a war designed to ruin all sides
Guinea pigs
Flipping tricks
Scary that we handle bricks
Galactic motivation cuz they know there’s something more than this
Space it out
Dimension strong
Definitive in guessing the irony of being wrong
Template made
Run the track
Tie shoes or you may never come back
Lock and load
Here we go
Infinity
Now end this show
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC
Everywhere I go
They throw roses
And love letters
Bright flashing bulbs
The tabloid circus
I'm a hero
I can walk on water
They want me at their charity
They want me to date their daughter
Paparazzi press
Unison- applauders
I said nothing funny
But they want my autograph
All the potential wannabes
Who claim they know my soul
The stupid adoration
Accumulated lull
The hippie-mystic groupies
Who want to get me high
The young married wife
Who shares my zodiac sign
The cop who lets me go
When I want to get caught
The journalist and his
Unrelenting cameraman
The sickly-devoted, naive
Screaming fan
The occasional stalker
Assassin-like scare
The philosophical ******
The devil-may-care
Crowd always willing to
Get slaughtered by celebrity
Until the stardust melts
And I'm no one else but me
Personal interest groups
Who always love a clown-
Now take everything above
And turn it all around
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 11:37 PM UTC
The weight of the wisdom we seek eludes
us as we stagger into dark dens of knowledge
suffused and selected, stored in gigantic libraries
of the mind by those
who know
yet wont divulge the details to those
who wait
arms outstretched
for the yearning.
In between lie wannabes
who seek the sun of comments
to glorify themselves as a birth right
unwilling to accept the acid pen
or pain of knowing how falsehoods
lie like wounds exposed to inspection.
Writing poetry in plain language is better
than compromised with complexity.
Just the words and visuals singing on the same note
should suffice to stir the minds magic
to ecstasy.
The crush of wisdom dispels us from climbing
over the boundaries of decency
to sizzle a comment with depressing ease.
You can hear the ego deflate and flatten
akin to a robust balloon descending
to earth like a flightless fancy
with no wingpower.
Not every poem straddles and sparks
in sheer finery
Lots and lots of them refuse to take off
and surrender to the minds star burst
of meaning.
In a days reading maybe
of a hundred, just one line would light up
a dark sky like a comet racing across the page
leaving behind its fairy dust
for us to ponder upon. One diamond
in the dust of lifeless energies
is worth mining for!
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Ya’ll **** (Myself included, I said everybody, didn’t I)?
Forbes, a magazine for rich wannabes, says:
85 people control half of the world’s wealth (yet, nobody obsesses)
In my rural hometown alone,
that’d be the equivalent of a disembodied ****** hole
calling all the shots from a platinum throne inside the town hall
“Keep plowing! Keep selling! PLLLLLPPPPPP!
Sop up my **** with all those Benjamins, and bring the Russian ballet in!”
In between **** and brain rotters, everyone else watches ******
with his handsome silk hat on,
shake hands with the petty bourgeoisie in suits
Little lap dogs
licking up all the slimy brown Franklins
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
The corner restaurant is a rendezvous of ghosts:
wholesome weeping wannabes, caricatures of caricature people,
large heads and drooping eyes, haunting cold coffee mugs,
burgers with fries, buzzing waitresses exhausted
has two kids back home and a young guy,
his hands deep in soapy waters and plates,
sweat stained shirt and forever o clock shadow
wishing he was someplace far, he's new but that one's not,
that one flipping canned meats, beer gut hanging low,
been here since 1975, used to play the guitar for a band,
the doors swing open, "Hey man, how long y'all open?",
boasting a cigarette mouth, coughing and yellow,
"I gotta get on the road but what pies you got?",
a 'Nam jacket zipped up, he sits while the jukebox sings
a cancerous voice and narcotic trumpet, and two lovers
are lost in the saturn moons for hours, wandering alien spaces,
the envy of no one, all the clocks crack the midnight bouquet,
the register rings, the phone rings, the manager scowls,
"Someone give her a hand!" mascara caked mystery howls
as her order nearly flips as the struggling waitress loses her tips,
and it never ends, the "help wanted" sign shines beneath the neon fright,
like moths attracted to lights, a newborn waddles inside.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC
I hate poetry
about flowers
and springtime
or love
or the feeling of your darling's hand
or her ********* lips.
Poetry should make you really
burn
but some burn
more like sitting at a baseball game
in the sun
and you forgot to put on sunscreen
and you hate baseball.
I like poems
written late at night
with your brain blasted
on adderall
or coffee
or cheap *****
Write
when your veins are filled with acid
when you're eating mac n cheese
made in the splattered microwave
with a broken plastic fork
and maybe even some broken dreams.
I like poems
when you're miserable
sitting in the sun
when all you want
is some ******* rain
to complement your melancholy mood
but the sun still ******* shines.
Untied shoelaces
and empty plastic water bottles
rolling down trash-filled streets
should take the pen out of your hand
and write some poetry for you.
Poetry about desperation
and drugs
and commonplace things
that drive you to the edge of a cliff.
I like poems
about that stupid pen
that won't work
so you scribble in the margin
but it still
won't
*******
work.
Maybe I don't like poems at all.
Maybe I just like
sounding pretentious
like some Bukowski wannabe
or maybe
I just like poems about
pretentious
Bukowski
wannabes.
Either way,
**** those *********
flowers.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
It has been brought to my attention by Elvis fans,
not to mention a slew of phone calls from irate Elvis impersonators
that my last poem was very insensitive.
For that I would like to apologize.
I would also like to set your minds at ease and inform you
that in no way were any corpses harmed in the writing of...
"Are You Lonesome Tonight" (AKA Digging On Elvis)
Although Elvis didn't hold up so well
on the trip back to Graceland...
As luck would have it though Walmart
was having a special on large trash bags.
Two for one! And the environmentally friendly ones too!
We all know how hard it is to find those on sale!
Now where was I...
Oh Yea!
So we were able to get every last piece of Elvis
safely back to his final resting place.
Once again let me apologize for any harm I've caused
the hundreds, no let's make that thousands...millions
of Elvis fans and Elvis wannabes.
Sincerely yours and a fan myself,
Mike
P.S. I'm also somewhat of an Elvis impersonator:
Pass me one of them there jelly doughnuts will ya...
Pretty good uh?
Maybe you have to be there...
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
Gooder and Badder
Bedder and fadder
What are Americans saying?
Boddle of wadder
Mudder and fodder
What is this game we are playing?
Funner and betterer,
Pitcher and ledder
They expect folks to unnerstan
Gimmes and wannabes
Mundees though Sundees
A hunnert and ten grand.
Gooder and Badder
Bedder and fadder
What are Americans saying?
Reedikullis and eeleegull
Furrin kinds of peepul
Should learn American English
Even when it’s ignernt,
And sounds a bit differnt,
A definite ***** to distinguish.
Boddle of wadder
Mudder and fodder
What is this game we are playing?
Inneresting innerlopers
Drunky ***** goat ropers
That’s what they think strangers are.
Our dippy high schoo dropouts
Don’t care what education’s about
And only care about today’s sports stars.
Gooder and Badder
Bedder and fadder
What are Americans saying?
Boddle of wadder
Mudder and fodder
What is this game we are playing?
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
a new poem (words, words, words but another drug), bolt upright, uplight, reattach yourself to the liquid of the music,
soothe the irritation, slowdown the shaking hand,
give god or his creatures, the nocturnes and sonatas,
a chance to restore the pounding of the chest to a leveling
equanimity
to no avail, the sleep angels have fled from the
forest fires in the chest, and the helicopters must quench
with the commence of dropping clouds of wet words,
when, when will I be released from a life that has no
easements
words, words, words but another drug, a habit that gives
everything but a temporary state, every poem nothing but
another her, another lady puncture in my restless body,
another juncture, where all your choices are the way of
error
the high will last, shorter each one, but the track will exist
for all the time, a token of human foolishness, the more is
the inevitability of the ending, writ, drawn a little closer,
and comes with a hand written spongy-apology begging for
existing
in his notes, motes, dust mites of titles, single verses,
elegies, essays half written, passing thots claiming to
want to be wannabes, this appears and it's a perfect
ending
there is no security in poetry, only the unresolvable
man in his perfect certainty, never was, nevermore, n'ere will be never, and one poet walks a razor's edge, that is his three tenses struggling for mutual coexistence, one of
a calming beauty, a dark glory, a perfect closing, choosing
a final solution, a belief in relief, that simultaneously
engraves, erases, and
equates
another new poem fissures to the surface, and the palpable
is a magician's illusion, a trick, a feat of dismemberment,
an excise of a piece, a drink, a Tennessee whiskey of him,
an emission that never gains remission status, all this fakery,
a new poem (words, words, words but another drug),
excellent, worthless and self-
effacing
{|||}
3:48am-5:46am
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 5:56 AM UTC
If I had a peso for every time I was asked for one
I’d be a rich man.
If I had a peso for every pleading face I’ve seen
I’d have a generous hand.
I’d put a peso in every can or pan
or outstretched hand
or cup or bowl or hat of wool.
I’d give one to the boy with the accordion player
and to the girl selling butterflies on a stick.
I’d give one to the woman squatting on the sidewalk
and to the youth with his baton-twirling trick.
I’d give one to the doll maker and to the basket weaver
and to the blind singer and to the fire-breather.
I’d give one to the old man drumming out non-rhythms
and to his equal, fiddling non-melodies.
I’d give one to the flautist/drummer combo
and to the Pavarotti wannabes.
I’d give one to the woman with few teeth
and to the man with one shoe
To the families sleeping in doorways
I’d give to all those who can’t do.
To every last one and all, big and small
I’d give a peso, or more
Hell, why keep score?
Yes, if I had a peso for every time I was asked for one
I’d give it up,
not because I should,
but because I could.
Well, ha!, at least, I’d like to think I would.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 7:49 AM UTC
What are we
but simple beings, wannabes
Every one a small piece
of the game, Reality™
We all live in conformity
social norms followed religiously
Until one dreamer dares to dream
steps away, breaks routine
gazes upward and flies free
Imagination is all we have
when this world is our lab
where we can be extraordinary
philosophers, never ordinary
Without these dreams
what are we
but simple beings, wannabes
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 6:49 PM UTC