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April is National Poetry Writing Month. The last three years I have participated in the poetry writing challenge NaPoWriMo to varying degrees. I told myself that this year I did not have time to write as much for this. That book revisions and CD recording come first. However, in between all of that, I hope to post the writing that spills out. Mostly freewriting with minor editing, may put some of it to music later. So far I have this.

March 31 prompt - first line "It's too late to live in..."

It’s too late to live in creativity

Committed to this crazy day job

Feeling stuck

Living a lie

Selling out

Time

Soul

face

sensibility

For things and money

For air conditioning

and plane tickets to Iowa

“I don’t know”

So say all of us

This is for every one of us

Who lives

Who dies

And lives a lie

Wondering why

This has to rhyme

A week alone, so far out of reach

Yet the tickets are printing

Not sure why

 

It’s too late to live in creativity

A college degree

In compromise and complicity

Following the cookbook

And direction from authority

Put the guitar away

Put the paintbrush down

Chase the money

A fawmer from formless myspace

Will never make a living at it

Maybe a dying

Stillness rambling senselessly

Over guitars, songwriting, painting and penmanship

Why write a book again

No one will buy

Thinking will sell prints?

Hah, see how many get bought online

From 39 likes

How in the world does that make a difference?

So free writing poetry

 

It’s too late to live in creativity

got no pizazz

No paparazzi

No following or fans or free thinking fees

Stick to buying CD’s

 

It’s too late to live in creativity

Half a life devoted to climbing the wrongineering mountain

The obstacles are the same in art, music and publishing

People, hating people, loving power, loving money

Selling out, chasing out, using up

Only the rates are different

 

It’s too late to live in creativity

Not ready to pay the price of that 6 society

Or to give up notoriety

Or combine gifts in spontaneity

Or live with free form gaeity

 

It’s too late to live in creativity

Sit back in the office chair

In front of the white screen and stare

Wonder how life would be out there

In creativity

Missed the train for complicity

Walked right through synchronicity

Ignored serendipity

Turning a nose up at serenity

And forgot to believe

In the magic that is free

 

It’s too late to live in creativity

Left to wonder what that life would be

Like watching Joey

Set fire to the rotting wagon under the pine trees

With his fathers cigarette lighter full of gasoline

 

It’s too late to live in creativity

 

April 1 prompt to write a poem about what something is not...

3 is

not a lover
or an object
or one who will deeply touch me

not a partner
or collaborator 
or one who will sign on with me

3 is orbiting beyond arms length
beyond the mystery
of polite pleasantry

not a thought
or a worry given
or who who loses sleep over me

nowhere close
or within reach for meaning
or one who will be real with me
is 3

April 2 prompt to write about the stars. I chose the haiku form

Glow dots on a screen
from distant constellations
that we dare to name

Spinning rotation
from our puny perspective
they seem small to me

not exploding balled
massive hydrogen fusion
past comprehension

of this speck of dust's
weak electrical signals
cryptic transmission

 

 

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