What if I live a life so
impossibly small
that hardly a soul
notices me at all…
If I crawl, hardly seen
like a meek little ant,
try to picture my life.
You can’t! No you can’t!
What if I pass along
all the rest of my days
without anyone privvy
to my cooped up ways
til I’ve hardly a hair
on my wrinkled old head?
I lay down in my bed
and I’m dead! Then I’m dead!
Or what if I dreamed
an impossible dream
and worked so hard to reach
it I split at my seams?
I tried hard and I failed
tried and failed, tried again
and accomplished that dream!
Well, what then? Say what then?
Do I find another dream
quickly, now? Find it now?
Do I just live in peace
but how? Just tell me how?
This is not poetry
saying you shouldn’t try
This is not poetry
saying storybooks lie
This is just poetry
meant to get at the stuff
that goes on in my head
when my head’s had enough!
Of its own clusterfuffle
It’s riggamerott!
The jumbled up jambles
crantorpously flot!
We all have our dreams
that we all want to try.
And we all live to be,
do, and see, then to die.
They say live in the moment
but you must plan ahead
They say make your own rules,
but then do ours instead.
They say that it’s best
to try to be content,
then say reach for the stars.
I’m not sure what is meant
by the mixed messages
we put out in the world.
So I bite at my nails
with my lip slightly furled.
I feel itchy and ansy like
I can’t sit still
Like I must do something
and I will! Yes I will!
But what, and but why,
and then what after that?
So I sit and blink
and I stare at my cat.
Oh how lucky the animals
surely must be
just to meow and to lay
and to sit and to be.
Not a care in the world
not a purpose to need.
Animals don’t cut themselves
just to see if they bleed.
Animals don’t use their
energy trying to find
a purpose to make them
secure in their minds.
They play when they play,
then they’re bored so they nap,
and they eat and they crap.
Eat and crap! Eat and crap!
So am I truly better?
I guess I can create,
build a change for the future,
and do something great…
But if I don’t then
am I like some human waste?
They say love thyself, then
accomplish! Post haste!
Post haste!
But I can’t and I’m done
and I’m ready to rest.
I gave this day my all
and I gave my real best.
What if I leave my rhymes
in notebooks on my shelf
and then nobody reads them
have I wasted myself?
If it adds up to nothing?
Oh well, oh well.
If I die in my sleep?
Then farewell, farewell…
I don’t want my poetry
to make you sad.
Sometimes we let things
out when we’re feeling bad.
If you look at the
earth from way above at night
all you see is the land
and the lights! Oh the light!
Maybe that’s just the thing
then, that we all must do.
If I keep giving my light
and I give it to you,
and you give it to someone,
who gives it right back
and we all start to glow,
then we won’t feel a lack.
We’ll keep glowing and
glowing with whoever we
are, just burning as long
as we can like a star.
We can sleep with a smirk
and awake with a smile
and there’d be space
for our sadness, at least
once in a while.
But when your head is all muddled
and things don’t feel right
just pan out to the heavens
and remember the light.
You may not feel good
about your least good ways
and you might be having one
of those ramtuqfurous days
It might make you feel
better if you speak in rhyme!
Or you might just need hugs
or just patience and time.
If you’ve lost all your purpose,
then be just to be.
If you can’t do things or see
things, just listen to me:
for I promise you this
just as sure as I write:
you might do good tomorrow
you might… yes you might…
heartstump.com 