wrote
but didn’t post
how unlike me—
—how like me
(though who can say but me)
wrote
but didn’t post
how unlike me—
—how like me
(though who can say but me)
how
can i constantly feel
like a novice
in all i do?
i’ve performed all my life,
but i still feel second/
third/
fourth/fifth/sixth/
end of the line
when it comes to opportunities
for the stage/screen arts.
i’ve had six plus years in the air,
but i’m a perpetual student
here.
i’ve written
every
single
morning
poetry
for over a year and a half,
but i’m still too scared to submit,
to hear the possibility
that i’ll forever be
amateur;
living only for the love of words,
never ‘going anywhere’ with it.
and what’s so bad about that?
capitalism/colonialism/white supremacy
forces our minds to find some meaning
out of what we can produce/expert the field
in a way that makes money—
churn out content/
content/
you need to create more content…
where is the place for creating for the sake of creativity?
and why can’t i find my own balance?
i think
it’s because
i just want to feel
like i know
something.
i want to feel adept/
professional/
expert/
master/
ace/
like i don’t have to second guess every choice i make—
that’s what i want out of my crafts.
i think it’s funny
how every morning
i sit down to write my poetry
and [almost] every morning
as i sit
i think
to myself
“man, i am not feeling the poetry today”
but i still write
at least one
(because that was my promise
to myself)
and think about picking an older poem
to post
but then i write
and write
and write and write and write
and have a poem (or three)
to post
plus a few
for a later need
plus maybe one or two
for warmup and whatnot
and how
did i become
the person
who just churns out words
again
and again
and again
ad nauseam
share with the world
your not-so-polished words
your poetry-that-maybe-could-use-some-revising
your writing
without rewriting
and see what the world
says
(that’s the whole point of this poetry blog)
i have poems
and concepts
rushing out of me
today
and none of them
are fit
to post
(guess i gotta look at the past)
wanting to go on adventure
also
wanting to just stay home
the light shining through the vines
finds
sparkles in the dew drops
or are they rain spots
or is it already frost
thought
i’d write about mundane things
thought
i’d write about tech timings
thought
i’d poem about contemplation
but what i needed
to write about
was
nonsense
(apparently)
i’ve been unintentionally rhyming
for a little while now
and i don’t know
how
i feel about it.
~~~
more words
more feelings
more emotions
more muck
to get out of my system
and out of my brain
to stream through the eyes/fingertips
onto a screen
where words seem so foreign
when writing from the heart
but here i am
here i go
here i
start
~~~
i’ve got good stuff
lately
and again
i don’t know how
i feel about
it
trying to get back
into the regular swing of things
but not knowing
if the test
will show
positive or negative
and whether i should really
be getting back
into the regular swing of things
or not
interesting
to experiment
with novel writing
as poetry
as the past
write
a little bit more
and you’ll feel
a little bit
better