sometimes i want to be someone else when i write, so you don't know how crazy i really am = and yet, that would not be mee if you did not know me and all of my bad poetry and so maybe you could call me someone else or something else but it really doesn't matter one flip what you call me because i will always be me with an extra e
This is a poem I wrote reflecting on my very first early days of starting a blog 15+ years ago.
Hello world its me. This is my first blog post..... Not sure what to say But you're not reading anyway I've been reading Darren Rowse Pro Blogger seems to know How to Make Money Blogging Do you think I'll make money blogging? Boy would that be nice That would be the life Sitting on the beach Making Money in my sleep First I think need to learn to code Where the hell do these widgets go? Functions.php There's gotta be something better than the Kubrick theme... Seems like this blogging thing Is never gonna pay 100,000 visitors yesterday But my ad revenue Is only $5 today
Nothing can quiet the muse today - She inhales the spices of sage And wants to make tea But the lightning of fire Has caught the disease There’s not enough ink, not enough paper She wrote a whole book in half an hour She paints the doorstops Red, yellow and blue Next she knows There is teal, orange and magenta next to you Cadmium yellow A beautiful fellow Kissed Cinderella and she hung herself from the wall, staring at the ropes that started it all The muse wants a blender, to combine all the things that aren’t to become all the things that are And yet she longs for December and it just feels too far She wants to make an inspiration box - a container to hold every fleeting thought – she must document decisions So she may understand the lines Lines are yellow, lines are red! I could talk about lines long enough to bore you to death. - she whispers secrets of the living room floor Why there’s black scratches etched by the door She wants to try every solvent, she’s assured us we can solve it - yet - She’s so loud we can see her no more She wishes to read lines about poodles in Faust She researched how mountains were made In case we should not be able to figure it out Must we quiet the muse? She is so well amused She’s got it all figured out No time to dust the shelves! She wants to write you a letter And draw you some numbers The fireflies sparkle in sage She’s found so much wisdom At such a young age Let us sing of the crocodiles Who walked all those miles to to your house... The muse won’t be shut in - she must be let out!
Tether me Don’t let me go Don’t let me float So far away I would drop I would fall I would fall apart