Poetry and Melodramatic Contemplations

I’ve been wanting to write poems lately.  Yeah.  That’s right.  I just said that.  I think I go in cycles.  Sometimes I want to write well constructed stories but sometimes I just want to write poems.

Maybe I’ll do that today.  ‘Cuz everything I can think of to blog about doesn’t sound cool to me right now.  Yeah.  That’s right.  A poem would be cool.  Something not too predictable or structured, that’s what I’m thinking.

But do people even care about poems anymore?  I wish they did.  I think most people think poems are weird but no way!  Poems are great.  I like ’em a lot.  I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.

I wish I wasn’t so scared to write a poem right now.  I don’t know if I can do it.  I feel so dry or something.  Maybe I should listen to some Wilco.  That always helps.

Some people just don’t value poems and it seems to bother me so much.  I just wish people didn’t think so lowly of them, I guess.  Poems are nice to write.

This world we live in, I just don’t know what to make of it.  Sometimes I like it but a lot of times I don’t know if I do.  I try to be optimistic I guess.  But some things are just hard to deal with.  I wish it wasn’t so hard sometimes.  I wish the world wasn’t so ugly .  I wish people weren’t so messed up.  We’re all messed up!  Not me or you, of course.  But everybody else definitely is.  I wish people got along better but that would mean that I would have to get along with people better too.  And I don’t think I want to do that.  So maybe it’s okay that we all don’t really like each other that much.  Maybe it’s healthy, I don’t know.  I mean, how much is everybody supposed to really get along?  How much should we really expect?

I don’t think it’s all so bad but it’s also hard to think positively about everything.  I think we are all very comfortable with our simple ways of seeing things.  Everybody’s got some different perspective.  And what looks wrong to me might not look so bad to everybody else.  I think seeing eye to eye is one of the hardest things to do.  Maybe it’s impossible.  I don’t know.

I’d say religion is the answer but it’s not the answer for everybody.  For some people religion means life but for others it’s just another kind of prison.  It’s death.  Just because it’s life to you doesn’t mean it’s life to every other person.  It all just seems so complicated.  I don’t understand it.  People don’t want to hear that.  They want an easy answer that won’t require much contemplation.

I don’t know.  I don’t know the answers, I just know a lot of them don’t resolve the questions.  People are satisfied with the answers they’re given because they want to be satisfied with those answers, not because they actually are satisfied by them.  It’s just nice to shut the door on questions you don’t feel like answering.  It’s nice to pretend like they don’t exist.  It’s easier to do that.

So, here’s a question:  Is it possible to be an artist and NOT feel defensive?  Because being an artist has a lot to do with putting your heart out there.  And it also has a lot to do with being ignored or thought of as a weirdo after you put your heart out there.  So is there such thing as a nondefensive artist?  And if so, could that person come and teach me their ways?

Not to be a sour puss.  I’m just trying to figure this one out.  Because I’m a person who’s put a lot of stake in art and I’m having a hard time figuring out if it’s paid off.  I’d like to keep believing in it’s power but… I just can’t tell if it’s proving much to me lately.  And I can take being let down by almost everything other than art.  It’s like my last defense here.  And that poet in the gutter thing isn’t funny to me.  I think I’ve learned how to build a life in that gutter, thank you very much.  But maybe I used to think that was romantic.  Now it just seems foolish.

But I like being foolish!  That’s one of the things that makes life worth living.  Wise people don’t do that much.  They stay away from the gutters.  They don’t even think about the gutters.

And they don’t write poems.

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