by Darryl Price
Some things I reject out right. That is I think I disagree
As John put it. You can't play the game. I was never
Too good at pretending. It's not that I can walk on water,
It's that I don't mind getting my clothes wet to get away
From all the bullshit about needing to suffer in order to rejoice.
There's plenty to celebrate within you and without you.
There are some
People I suspect that are way too nice or way too spiteful
In spite of there being no need for it in the room.
Even now this poet wants to rant and rave instead of making
His own beautiful sound. What's the point? Just do your dance. Don't
Need all the make-up just to break my heart. We'll provide
You with enough light and shadow to mix your energy in. Get
A move on. There's a pill for everything. There are so many
People holding a gun to our heads on a daily basis that
We don't need to add our own to make the point any
Sadder. What do you really want? This morning when I looked out
My kitchen window it had just started to snow and the trees
Seemed to welcome the change. I actually saw a hawk sitting on
A red fence swiveling his head back and forth like an owl
While the soft new snow pelted him with a playful glee. David
Bowie died and there's nothing I can do. War has never disappeared
From our earth. In outer space the astronauts see only one planet,
But down here we allow some children to be separated from parents.
Climb highest mountains. We get our pictures in the paper. We all
Die with the light on, the need for love in our eyes.
Some kids are so desperate for contact and communication that they see
No other way out other than suicide by cop. Exactly how many
Bullets were enough to make sure Bonnie and Clyde never took another
Picture of their lonely affection for one another? The answer is plain
To see now. People ask me what is the point of all
This poetry and all I can tell them is I wish I
Knew. Feelings I guess. Feeling something all over. Feeling so deeply that
It tells me I'm not just alive, all the roads we travel
Are connected. Any way it's a multi-purpose universe, that's for sure. This
could be just another blank piece of paper, or it could be
the invitation to freedom you've been waiting for. The postage's all mine.
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You have got to learn to say no and mean it. Everyone wants to fix you up. No one wants to know you. That takes time. And anyway you wouldn't live up to their expectations. It's all true. Like I said I don't like pretending, but some folks have learned to do it as naturally as skiing down a hill. I'd rather just fall over on purpose so I can stop being something I'm not.
This story has no tags.
Soulful searching for "the point." *
The ending resonates. The feelings, oh, the feelings. *
"We all / Die with the light"
I envy you this line.*
I love "People I suspect that are way too nice or way too spiteful
In spite of there being no need for it in the room." Wonderful series of connections.
If only we could imitate the snow with its playful glee. *
Great enhancements throughout. They lend force, line to line- stanza to stanza. Good poem.
This poem wraps its little bird in a furry sweater. It gives a little heat to its bird bath in winter. It winters, it rests, it soars. *
This might also be called 'A Poem for Today'
In the time of no Bowie and no Lennon.
Thanks, Darryl.*