senior year of high school
is head
spinning
the possible paths
split like
dessert cracks
avoiding falls into faults
can be difficult
when hands bite your feet
some flail in a frenzy
overwhelmed and giddy
unsure where to groove
others ball up
lost and cold
afraid to move
most of us probably wander
somewhere in between
at best dancing to our favorite tunes
where does this leave you?
what cracks have you dived into?
...
the worn path tells me
work for another mans pay
in a robotic humdrum way
while going to college
to smell a fresh printed paper degree
so finally
after ten calendars decay thrown away
you can live your career
a dream bottled in starving tears
but with quill in hand
alI hear is
let go
lean back
relax your hips
release from that kung fu grip
keep
write write writing
life is nothing less than a poem
graphite rubs off our feet
and ripples across our
canvas
the cosmos
pa**ion matters
artists get degrees
and doctor's don't
what a farce
a cricketing joke
let the dust dirty your face
when swinging pickaxe
at a grinning pace
when sweat soaks
and blisters burst
know the gold
your work is worth
even when scathed
and unpaid
it's worth the pain
dirt grows from flowers
and flowers grow from dirt
an eternal cycle jerks and irks
but the tingling on the back of our neck
roundhouse kicks fears thirst
...
have you planted the seeds of your dreams?
will you let them jump out of that hazy wake walking sleep
or continue to count them like imaginary sheep?
...
hey, Dylan right?
your poetry is awesome
it makes me smile on the worst of days
I smile back
Looking myself in the eye, I whisper in a warming breathe and bow, thanks.