What I Write
I don’t know
If I like
The mood
I am currently in
I want to write
The urge
Is trembling
At the top
Of my pen
But what
I don’t know
Should it be
Those many days
That life
Presented me
A fork
Or how I missed
Those opportunities
By walking
The wrong tine
Be it fate
To lay down
With wife
Work
Sedentarism
Or
Many a day
When death
Was just before me
Would have been
So easy
To brush his hand
Drop that mic
And walk
Do I grasp
That urge
To break out
And write
In a new style
Punk
Would be it
With outrageous hair
An F U to fashion
And a finger
To the Queen
(Not Kate)
Am sure
I hear
London calling
But Punk
Is not that poetic
More brutal
Would end up
In the Gutter poets
Class
Bless his honesty
Or do I write
Mournfully
That unattainable
Vision
Where I know
Life will last
Or write about
A porcelain throne
That’s accompanied by
A porcelain Flute
As sometimes
That’s
How I feel
What I write
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