I’m not fond of rap, but I’m in love with poetry and the two seem to merge seamlessly. I don’t have the talent to add music to words, but if I could, I’d want to come this close.
Such arrogance, but fed from insecurity. Writing about experiences is hard, but it’s the deepest most poignant resource we have. Imaginary is so simple in comparison. I find it almost impossible to search for inspiration, the obvious will always be obvious, but inspiration finds you. Once it has you can’t ignore it.
I rested my head against the bus window last night and felt the vibration in my bones. Shop windows full of flashing lights screaming of “must have” things. Dummies dressed to convince us of how we could be, as we pass through shop doorways. Faceless plastic….what a perfect place to be.
On the homestretch now, the same vibration in my bones. Longing for some silence, a picket fence on the greenest expanse a view of the ever changing ocean bathed in light.
Can things ever be that simple and would it be everything you hope for? You can’t dip your toes in just to test a theory, immerse yourself. Damage limitation? Save it for business meetings.
People who can describe themselves, who can claim categories that they change as often as their clothing. The closed books with the well worn pages and overused lines. I can’t find comfort in falsities.
Treat love like it’s “a limited resource” like this time might be the last time. Remember how good happiness can feel. Look carefully at who’s behind the trigger before you dodge the bullets.