life’s limits (poem 7/25/23)

surrounded by dreamers when one is a cynic’s

“today’s meant to be” versus “well, life’s no picnic”

enjoying a life while the life’s not romantic

won’t mesh well with dreamers with stars in their eyes


with feet planted firmly, you know who you are 

but a dreamer’s convinced they may well be a star

and a star they may be, but that’s so not your style

so you smile and nod as they strive for some prize


for dreamers, a life is as big as the ocean

one drop in the water will stain the whole sea

a cynic will scoff at illogical notions

for cynics, a life has a limit of Me


surrounded by dreamers when one is a cynic’s

a school kickball player whose friends go olympic

or seeing the world through the eyes of a finicky farmer who’s scoffing as pigs try to fly


to stand and observe endless truths being twisted 

is frustrating, true, but recall you must be

understanding of things you had thought had existed 

while climbing the branches of life’s twisted tree

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

borrowed nostalgia

i think i’d like to spend a night back then years and years ago, when there were stars in the sky  when we could look up where we were and see the heavens, before we blinded ourselves with our own light  to spend a day when things were slower, with not so much to separate me from a forest squirrel  climbing trees and looking upwards, feeling dirt between my toes  when an idea was as big as the ocean, full of life, wonder, and color  i could have just one and never see it fade instead of spitting them out like chewed up bits of gum from a blister pack i took the last one out of and threw away  i’d like to breathe in the air of walking for miles and reaching nothing, journeys taking days and weeks to see the world change around me, but not too much too fast everything is spinning and it won’t stop… i’ve been caught up in the twister all my life  if i can look into a mirror for long enough i pause, but i have pills to take and buses to catch and oh so man...
Read more

my brain in a blender!

if you took my brain out of the skull it sits in and stuck it in a blender, you'd get some kind of funky pink sludge. and from that sludge would arise a cloud of vapor the vapor of my hopes and dreams, half-formed imaginings of what i might do someday when i figure out what exactly it is i'm meant to. if i figure it out i have a whole world at my fingertips but i can't bring myself to snap - a snap that could create a universe or just a small clicking noise that echoes inside my mind as the touch of my fingertip lingers on my palm. if you were to take that pink sludge and put it back inside my skull i wouldn't be me anymore - with pudding for a control center my eyes could never paint the pictures they see and what a delight it is to look around and see pictures! to open my eyes every morning and take in the world... i'd miss it if my brain were sludge i think my favorite sense is smell. in the springtime, at least. i could spend my whole life breathing in the cool ...
Read more