Sunday Scribblings
These last few days have been blog-less. Not for lack of trying, but because every time I try and post, I get stuck. I draft a few sentences and then make a face at the computer and go away again. I did try to do Sunday Scribblings… I wanted to write about how people seem to think that REAL life is down and dirty and ugly and mean and that to get to grips with it, you have to be equally mean and hard and build up your shell. This could be a leftover piece of being-adolescent-in-New York City angst. Things like poetry that rhymed, going to bed early, not hanging in bars and preferring movies with happy endings were seen as childish and silly. Not real life. Get down from your tower and smell the coffee and the sewer sweat. But, I would whisper, isn’t any life real? Isn’t it all real? Isn’t wearing exactly what you want to (even if it’s not ripped, not tight, not “cool”) the real cool? Does it matter what I look like, how I talk, how I choose to think? What is not real about this? Anyway, I started writing this in response and now that it’s Monday, I’m simply posting it, unfinished, unexamined. My real life right now is not about polish.
Real life hurts
Real life stings
Like iodine on scraped knees
Real life flings
Mud in your face
Puts you in your place
Been there, done that
Run, rat, race.
Real life oozes
blood between your toes
Real life stinks like
A putrefying rose.Poetry and music
Love and arguments
Simple pleasures, piano lessons
Money saved or spent.
Dreaming spires, sunblock
Kind words in a crowd,
Singing very softly
Singing very loud.
Great perspective, and a wonderful poem.
Love the poem; sometimes “polish” isn’t necessary!
Singing very sofly
Singing very loud.
Thank you. This is wonderful, and I will be proclaiming the new ee cumming: you.