Containment

Nice to hear from Robin again! And is good to be here today, in this blogspot. Have been visiting Steve Salerno's SHAMblog lately and thinking a lot about the things he says. Even though he is (apparently) closing up shop, there is plenty of good material to read through over there.

Today, however, I share a ... mm, not sure what to call this as it is not really a poem but a word stream. Yes, that it is what it is, a word stream inspired by a conversation about Bo Diddley, may he rest in eternal peace.

sad sounds from a person who lives despite consequences
who chooses those dirty deeds (done dirt cheap) as if there
were some other choice but to waste words on fetid breath
but hell, we all know it's not the words but the dance that matters
scowling at the moon, we dance our gipsy danse, twirling 'round
angry that no words will do but making do with that nasty dance
tastes good feels rotten gets going to become ripe like fruit again
sworn to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, a witness sees
watching melancholy out of eyes colored the same, seeing
fairly clearly, accurately -yes- and this means i recognize
my brother my sister we chose thus and seeing our own
reflection looking back looking up toward that same scowling moon
wind screeching all around and yet today only happens once
in this lifetime and still the cheerful message drones on and on
even though it shows what nobody really wants to see but if i
keep it to myself any longer or any farther down this endless road
then i might just implode into myself, and we know how tragic that can be
yes if it rains the parade will still go by even though we're all wet
the water reminds us the parade is not a charade but a gift like
wild horses running free across the landscape of dreams aplenty
okay so they won't come true i can still dream them can't i
and help myself to a piece of that pie the yummy yummy pie
the grand old pie made with a tasty upper and lower crust
if we all must eventually settle on rock bottom and yes we must
it is from that position we realize up ^ looks utterly best and that
we really do all of us get what we deserve and nothing less
now is not the same as here for now is gone the instant you say
now for now is no more but here is being present despite the fact
the mere fact so mere that it dissipates into the thinnest of airs
that now just passed away in time that might still exist even though
the eternity in which we love and love forever it seems is within reach.