for words to tumble out
of a writer's mind onto a blank page,
don't let your goals make you insufferable,
loosen up once in a while,
and let hours roll by,
without you having to endure
the thoughts failure
let lose once in a while
it is not crime to miss a goal or two
or three....or six
you wouldn't die
loosen up and be alive
let go of burdens of guilt
be free like the air
recharge and get back the goals
like a thousand hungry lions
I wish I were a tree
A
eucalyptus tree with a long smooth back
I'd stand inconspicuously among other tall
trees with smooth barks.
I'd have grand eucalyptus thoughts, days
and nights while
I
stretch painstakingly slowly towards the sky
I'd think, for example, that I'd grow up to
be a piece of paper
where I'll land on the table of a genius
poet
Or his printer.
Or his collection of eerie thoughts
conjured up in wee hours of night.
If the poet is a woman, then I'd be content
to be her tissue paper,
a tissue paper with a long and smooth bark
the nights are no longer long
the ticking clock no longer drawls
I ceased wondering
about where I went wrong
time is nigh, I feel it,
energy gushes out of me
like a burst water pipe
I am no longer full of shit
there are no more nightmares
the past seems long gone,
and a gleaming future awaits me
step by step, I climb up the stares