It happens, suddenly
Not always in the dead of night
Whenever the timing isn’t right
It strikes!
Like an alarm clock in a dream
It screams
Like a rip in your pant seams
In one big rush
The pangs of a crush
Faces go flush
Panic and frantic antics
It asks
Who are you
Are we… a we?
I am
Not boyfriend material
You can’t make me into your ideal
I arrive “As Is” or else return me
I’m a gift but you must earn me
I refuse to conform to your mold
No I won’t do as I’m told
No I don’t check all the boxes
Your romanticism is toxic
I’m not playing hard to get
I am
Forgive my pithiness
I often confuse my shortness
With sweetness
Many are my weaknesses
More to the point
I seek
To stupefy your perception
Of meek
The strength of wittiness
Should lengthen the limits
Of how we think
We think
Not shrink
In cowardice
But to maximize
myth
Forgive my pithiness
I often confuse my shortness
With sweetness
Many are my weaknesses
More to the point
I seek
To stupefy your perception
Of meek
The strength of wittiness
Should lengthen the limits
Of how we think
We think
Not shrink
In cowardice
But to maximize
myth
It’s a great day to be a poet
The sky is a particular shade of blue
The embankments glazed with mildew
Balcony birds preaching the good news
Cat paws perching on a fence pew
Bicyclists brigading down the avenue
What else would a poet do?
Other than
Share this
Day with you
Ponies for princesses 👸
Unicorns on unicycles 🦄
My first and second guesses
Reading the thoughts
Of women in Michael’s
As cute as their craftwork
Ever the angelic engineers
I would make it my life’s work
A career of flirting with cashiers
Charmingly old-fashioned
Quite sincere
A poet of generous genius.
A porcupine of compassion.
A prince of prescient pathos.
A priest of soulful similitude.
A pirate of babbling bounty.
A pawn of devious divinity.
A paratrooper of profundity.
A prankster of platitudes.
A paladin of wayward spirits.
My oath, so be it
I accept the fate of not fitting in with the herd: like a polka-dot zebra.
I recognize my story is as Lambert The Cowardly Lion who discovers his mighty roar at the darkest of hours.
@scarboroughdude I will say, with unabashed egotism, I might be the most interesting person anyone I know has ever met. An enigma unto myself. I often dampen my quirkiness out of politeness lest I become a total social pariah. Like a magic trick, I pull it out of my hat: to elevate the moment.
Maybe this feeling is just the end of the limerence. My nervous system has calmed down. My thoughts aren’t racing. My heart isn’t fluttering. Our dynamic is platonic. It was one hell of an experience though. Now I can reflect. Strengthen my sense of self. All and all it’s a win.
My intuition is warning me that there’s an imminent situation I must be ready for. The dreaded catch-22, damn if I do or don’t, critical juncture ahead. Something is about to happen that will change the coarse of my life. Doom, bloom or bust.
@scarboroughdude I’m building on my POET persona. It’s the only stable ground I have for confidence and self-worth right now. I think and feel poetically. I get depressed whenever I suppress those impulses. I’m a much better version of myself IN LOVE and whimsical.
@scarboroughdude No, because inevitably tear myself to pieces. Too much introspection and personal narrative is poison. Sometimes I feel like Chaplin’s Tramp: I wander around alone like an angelic hobo. No epic stories to tell. My life is series of sad haikus.
@scarboroughdude Fun fact: I was a member of the local charter of the Nashville Songwriters Association when I was 14. Unfortunately, it dissolved before I received any mentorship.
@scarboroughdude I'm inspired by your books. In my particular case, my goal is to make my songwriting become real music. Maybe produce an album or at least have a song I wrote sung by someone. I've been writing since I was 12, I feel I owe it to myself.