Sure, Not

Inspiration
has been a problem
and a solution
I feel stuck
trying to figure something out
I should have had a decade ago
I can’t live in the past
The future is never promised

I put so much energy
and focus
into wasted time
for what?
What’s done is done
I walk through shadows
Searching for peace
finding the building blocks
to build back my sanity

Some don’t understand
that my art is words
just not the ones
that come out of my mouth
they bury me

This is a release
but what is its merit?
Perhaps it has none
empty pages in an open book

I’ve spent so much time
contemplating what my place is
It’s nowhere
It’s nothing
There’s nothing left for you to hurt
to steal
That I have not already stolen from myself

Coercion is the norm
A terrible abhorrence
glorified by a goddess
with a devious smile

I’m not allowed
to talk this way
any way
Any thing that’s me is wrong

This is not real
It is not a real creative effort
It is me getting my feet wet
with something I’ve spent countless hours doing

This is something I’ll likely take back
I won’t be satisfied
I will make no progress

I wish I could be positive
I only see the yin and the yang
It seems the trap is laid
anywhere I tread

The thing that drags me down
And brings me back where I belong
I just haven’t figured out where that is

A sad excuse for an art
I was once more clever than this
I long for the days
of the seeds I smashed with a hammer

But I can’t live in the past
Is there no future?
I’ve had way too much time
to try to figure this out

I wish my mind hadn’t gone awry
Extreme overload of senses
Difficult to decipher
I lost my way

I’m taking baby steps
on my way back
to my own reality
when I need the confident strides

There’s only one chance
and if I mess it all up
I’ll reincarnate
as a beetle or a butterfly

So why am I so perturbed?
I dug myself in
to a hole I can’t climb out of

I am not as clever
as I once was
Or even as I thought I was
And all of those drunken reveries
that granted a shallow power of sorts
Now seem to have the value
of an electroplated object
On the surface they were golden
But scratch deeper and the truth can be seen

I was once better at this I assure you
The right words the right alliteration
used to melt from my fingertips
and you think I am just beginning
Whereas I feel I have been stuck
For far too long
In suspended animation
To escape your opinion
And I still cannot so why bother?

The allegory of the cave
Just what world am I living in?
Who sucked out the feeling?
Why am I always searching for an exit?

Nostalgia meets the modern
There are so many unnecessary complexities
To each and every thing
Each and every choice
Each and every moment
wasted

I’m a master and a novice concurrently
You say this cannot be
perhaps you are right

confidence on the back burner
it’s getting red hot
because someone forgot to turn off the stove

You perceive me in a way that I do not exist
And that’s OK
I’m surprised you perceive me at all

And this is trash
The worst thing
I ever wrote
It’s what happens
When I fall into a slump
It’s lasted far too long
I’m never satisfied
Until the plan is scrapped
and replaced by a thousand new ones

I need to exist
in an environment
conducive to my talents my strengths
So how the hell do I do that?
Every time I remove the problem
I realize that it wasn’t really the problem
Perhaps I am the problem

I don’t have a legacy
just thousands of pages
that are not worthless
but will never be seen

scattered in notebooks
I’ve saved from my youth
It clutters my mind
I cling I hold on
To dreams that are dead
And worthless in the monetary sense

I’m addressing issues no poet would
No poet is supposed to
even acknowledge themselves as a poet
And it is all these rules
That made me a notpoet
That made my brand notpoetry

I’ve done so much to better myself
And it feels it has been wasted
I know I’m not the only
One that feels the same way
For different reasons

I cherish life
I make mistakes
The faster they
can see me break
When it’s all more than I can take
That’s the only time value is obtained

As I sift through this reverie
I again realize it’s worthless
To me it may be made of gold
To string along these words of old

days anew
seems too late to decide what to pursue
I feel stuck
I feel like I should have had everything figured out a long time ago
Moments of brilliance
surrounded by shit
I think I see it
I think I get it

A tapestry of torment
titillation numbs the senses
I’m stuck in a world
I can’t help but wonder why
this was created
by my own hands

blasphemy burgeoning
On the surface of society
Not fully understanding
the mechanics of sobriety

To eat is not to drink
To explore is not to think
To descend into an eternal madness
Cannot cure concurrent sadness

This is not a beginning
or a means to an end
or that solipsistic new age voice
assuring you will ascend

No
This is nothing
Caught between worlds
and battles lost
by a technicality
by a disregard for the rules

If I were to turn this into something
Into a product you can purchase
I would not be sitting here broke
Pointing the finger at myself
But what would I gain?

Any little victory I have
creates such an imbalance in my ego
That I am assured at least 10 more losses
In other words I cannot take a compliment
I use it as an excuse for slacking
And that’s simply not acceptable in anybody’s book

So how again is this art?
It’s not
It’s somebody lost in the dark
searching for a light
that once shone bright

that once packed so much purpose
but now has a short on the battery lead
because of planned obsolescence

I’m still trying to figure myself out
I’m way too old for that
But I still must accept
The reality I’ve created

There is a part of me that’s volatile
I keep it tucked away
Underneath the habits I’ve quit
And the ones that still impair my health
Like that bag of queso chips I ate today

So to the purpose
to the point
What is the point of all of this
It’s to shit on my own art
That’s what gives it value
to a select demographic
That exists within my mind

If there’s only 1 truth
encompassed by billions of realities
where do I fit in?
I should have figured it out by now
So maybe I should conclude that I don’t
I don’t fit in anywhere
That’s the realization that is key

When God asks me
What I did to help change this
So I am not cast into the flames
I will make him read this
To prove that I can still
laugh at myself