Tuesday, August 2, 2016

the shame

this small feeling of shame
when I wax poetic
About all things me
Everything I feel
Shouldn't it be
The duty of a poet
Some responsibility
To make sense of the world
Through poetry
Or maybe ask a question
Or hell, point to an answer
But here I am
Marinating in my own mental juices
Focusing the spot-lights on me
Some kind of selfish dictator
Ordering the emotions
To stand in formations
So I can rhyme
Or at least try to
Maybe I'm the only selfish bitch
But maybe every fucking poet is
If there has to be some shame
We'll share that shame together
All of us, under our umbrella of sky
As life ending space rocks pass us by

Some poems, I tangle with for hours, others, I write with speed and urgency of vomit or crippling diarrhea.

No comments:

Post a Comment