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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required So I was walking down Market Street There's a guy in a suit, with a leotard over the shirt and trousers (but under the jacket) in 28 degree heat His thing was dancing to Michael Jackson's back catalogue Seemed reasonably ok at it, there was a slight crowd I thought, am I the amateur Michael Jackson dance routine in the city centre kind of show off... He was putting his heart and soul into it, it was underwhelming and appears to form no part in a bigger picture but I could imagine the excitement he had picking the day, getting the female friend to mind his speaker, seeing people gather to watch It made me wonder about our desire to be noticed, to exist The next attention grabber was someone stating they played real music, on a real guitar with a real voice... I'd walked too far and didn't hear what he had to offer though I don't know what I'm doing or why, but I seem to be sticking with poetry in the way no hobby has stuck before For the longest time I just wished I could be normal, say normal things, be happy with stuff I should be happy with. Then it turned out, no revelation involved but I'm quirky, my thoughts fire at multiple angles, I'm phased and unphased at totally different stuff than other people and although I can chat about holidays and pop stars (that isn't true), I much prefer an abstract conversation about complete nonsense Poetry has let me test out sharing my weird, getting out my angst, let me spiral my fired up anxiety into words and also impressed upon me that when I try and be normal I bore myself stupid and because it's not my niche I can't be engaging trying to be something I'm not So I've stopped trying to push down my personality, noticed how it really doesn't matter if I'm not for everyone because connecting as myself to people who get it is an absolute buzz I've not got the work ethic to learn every Micheal Jackson dance and I'm glad I can have a good line in a bad poem and still engage (a good moonwalk won't offset a poor woo) but this is my offering, so unpolished that it's practically one continuous sentence... in the background is a poem I'm not sharing, placing this upfront to moonwalk it's way past an unmoved crowd
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