HOPE MAY BE A BURDEN And life may make of us a beast When what matter mosts, we care about the least. Forgive me. I fear I am entering a rhyming phase where words and sounds come to together. My sound and my fury. Together they blow. I blow. I go. Oy.
F*ck it. This is my blog. (like anybody cares.) I think I want to dance now. Dance this mess around. Whatever. Oy.
If I was dancing now, I would have a hard time choosing. That's a white male thing. Having a hard time choosing. Then going on about it forever. Making it all about you. Which I guess in this case is me. Enough about me. F*ck me. Which I guess is the point. Sometimes we get to that point.
You get to that fork in the road and the ghost of Yogi Berra tells you take it. Take the fork in the road. You gotta do something so take the fork in the road. Take it, m*ther f*cker. How are you supposed to take a fork? Hey fork this.
Someday soon, you will ask someone you trust the question why am I where I am? That person you trust may answer in either of these two ways most caring. The first way? How did you get where you are? Don't ask me.You're the one who's driving. The second way? How did you get where you are?
What are you worried about? You are right where you are supposed to be. Right where you are supposed to be is not an answer for people getting shot or for people who want to shoot other people or for people who want to shoot themselves. I could just be shooting off my mouth here, but I don't think so.
I think I want to dance now. If I was dancing today, I could only have one of two choices. Or I could be like a certain friend of my mine and somehow have them both. One perhaps more important than the other. For now. Or not. Where is Professor B when you really need her?
Did somebody say something about dancing? I think I want to dance now. Picking one or the other? Fork that. Hope a burden? Fork that. A fork in the road and yo must make a choice. Fork that and fork me very much. Thank you.
I want to say thanks very much to everybody who stopped by yesterday, mostly to the ones who stopped by and dropped off some comments. What you drop on me lifts me. That's all I got. What you give me. Thanks.
Oh, and these poems. These two dear friends I have never met in person, but only on the wire. We are but birds on the wire. Fork that. Turn on the musicks. Let's Gdansk.
Leah from Corrente figured me out a long time ago. Was wondering where she was, where she had been. Wonder must cease when your friend comes back. Lauren Bruce? Ah, oy. What can I say? Hers is a poetic life. I am graced to have met her.
First poem is for Lauren, the second one for Leah. Or the other way around. Share some hope. Share some love. Let's dance
The Heretik Joe Ivory Mattingly ask you to share your hopes and comments freely. I would particularly like to know what songs you would send to a friend on a day like today. Thanks.
and you seem to be at one of those points. where the point seems pointless and the only point jabs you in the gut and you wonder now now how how and i going to get around this point.