might as well be a poet

[revolutionR]

my life ain't worth a thumb tack
this is how it goes in a poem
my life is like a thin dime
flip it any time, jack
when it's up in the air
it don't have a care
is it heads or tails. who knows
who cares, a poet is like a ghost
existing in a moment like a wisp of smoke
like a bad joke, told to anybody who will listen
like a good poem that lasts for a heart beat
everything slows down, or speeds up, can't tell
which, I'm an unemployable clown, it's a bitch
charley, things get gnarly, don't it? jeeze...
when I was a little kid, they said to me
"I can chop you so low, you have to, look up to
look down", and I been looking up so long
that I don't know just how down it is, gee wiz

what do you want to be when you grow up
but they never ask what do you want to be
when you grow down, an out of work clown
a scare-a-crow on the edge of town
might as well become a poet
if perchance, you ever go to France
you can walk the Paris streets
and follow the foot steps, of those famous
French poets, who wrote with their soul's blood
who said the things no one else dared
and in their chests the dagger of despair they bared
pulling it out and using it as a pen, to conjure with
the world as it hurled into its future, making up
the past as it went along, in its mad dash
to wrong the wrongs, to as if it all just buries itself
under a heap of lies, God knows we tried, poet knows

nothing is as it seems, in waking reality, or in dreams
but I dream anyway, and my shoes turn into magic
carpets, I'm on a journey through the thousand nights
and one, I behold unimaginable splendor and marvels
beyond the imagination, but then the rug turns into
a drug, and I'm coming in for a crash, and the words
I put on the pristine paper fade into the weary dawn

[dadio]

A poem worth getting one's teeth into and more.

[mnaz]

"but they never ask what do you want to be
when you grow down.."

True.

[Arcadia]

bravo, r-rabbit!!!!!!