Day 23
My Words, Our Stories
Stand up and I’ll
stand with you
We shall succeed!
blares out of my computer.
I’m curled in my overly spacious armchair,
pen poised above my notebook,
ready to write,
an open beer beside me.
Guitar wielding tattooed men
play across my mind
along with skinheads,
people bouncing wildly around
in mosh pits,
and all different types
of punk rocker chicks.
I write to tell their tales.
Not the stereo-typing stories
of brats who just want to
have an excuse to push against society.
But the stories of us
who’ve always felt disconnected
from society for one reason or another.
So many images, ideas, and stories
flight against one another in my head.
I can’t shake them apart,
or get them to slow down.
Frustrated, I throw
my pen and notebook across the room
and chug my nearly full bottle of beer.
Unsteadily I get up,
reach over to grab my notebook.
But then I look down
at one of my poems.
I read my words and realize
that whenever I lay my words out
I write the stories
of my fellow rockers
as I see the world
through my own eyes.
Day 24
Lazy Sunday
I wake up unassisted
earlier than normal,
and almost immediately grab
a big cup of coffee from the kitchen
to clear my head.
Two hours are spent going from
reading to playing with my phone
to half listening to people jabbering at me
to staring out the window
at the grey sky and lake.
Below freezing, but still
we grill hamburgers outside for lunch.
A football game plays on
in my background
people yell curse, sigh loudly.
I’m sitting, writing,
and daydreaming.
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Very good couple of poems. Always good to see the mind of a writer and see how they try to cater to an audience. I was thinking of how to cater to the same audience. Glad to see I'm not the only one that's frustrated. But may the force run with you well.
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