The words dance in my head,
And I listen to them,
And then I let them go.
Because, you know,
Their waltz, you have all said,
Isn’t what you came here for.
They aren’t why I started either,
Though they were always there,
Moving to the beat of the fire,
That burns fiercely,
Blistering my insides,
Never allowed to bubble out.
But, what if I unleashed them,
Set them free to raze,
Would I find relief then?
A lie, a sin,
They would spiral round all prim,
Elegant and impeccable timing,
A show for all to praise and watch,
But even at that hour of the clock,
I would find no peace in the ticks and tocks,
To spill the blaze here,
Would be to disappoint others,
And that pain would be far worse.
So, I shall endure for a time,
As best I can,
With the flames eating my soul.
I’ll hide the toll,
Of this facade, this ruse, this grime,
That is the brave face I wear,
Despite the obvious cracks and tears,
And the holes, where flames grew too near,
Doused quickly to hide my fear,
But the singed edges remain,
And the tatters thin and break away,
Until, I need not worry, for nothing will be left.
“and then *poof* he was gone”
This place right here is yours, dear sir
And let the letters waltz, if waltz they will
But never let the fear of disappointing others
Or letting them down, prevent your spill
Of whatever is within your heart to write
For bottled in, the pressures rise
I fear you won’t feel right and ill-
Used words prove hollow prize.
My wish for you, if wishes be
Allowed to wend into the wires
And twixt them find a way for you
To write whate’er your heart desires
For whatever we’ve got in our heads
Whichever Jester, Man or King
If heart and truth aren’t in his words
We really don’t have anything
And yet, with dire hypocrisy
I’ll say, my all I’ll NEVER scribe
For fear of damaging onslaught
Which would doubtless rend my tribe
And so, dear Jester, King and Man
Whilst here, it’s clear we’re connoisseurs
We’ll enjoy all you choose to write
And celebrate what you prefer.
I’m here for everything, through everything. Whether you like it or not. 😉
I won’t leave you.
Let it flow.
I’m not going anywhere either.
Nothing you write will ever disappoint me.
Poetry, sadness, silliness, fiction – you could publish your grocery list and I’m not going anywhere.
So there. xoxoxoxo