tight rope in poetry

every poet wants to be a rock star
every rock star wishes they could act
every actor just wants to direct
every director wants to be a king in fact
every king would rather be a goddess or a god
every goddess wishes she
could cast aside responsibility
retire and just write poetry
we will all reach our peace in time
in the fullness of our hopes
in our reason and our rhymes

those who would long for madness
press for madness strive for madness
worship madness
have no idea how much madness actually hurts
how much lost madness can leave you

there is no genius only work
there is no muse there’s only work
there is no inspiration
only the repetition of work
recitation and re-edits
chiseling at some damned rock
in hope a statue lives within

those who’d long for sanity
who’d pose as sane
who’d swaddle themselves
in the trappings of the norm
have no idea how much you must give up
how trapped you will become
within the confines of respectability

so some of us will split the difference
a foot in each world
the crazed and the stable
picket line and picket fence
self-immolation self-defense
trying to translate for each to the other
without drowning in either’s sadness
we try, anyway
I guess I still lean toward the madness

Last updated November 30, 2016