The Traded Pencil

Stuck in the muck

Of a tar-like quick sand

Concided to become black and sticky

Calling it “organic”

Dully smirking at “awake”

As if functional is manic

Trading asperation for the perspiration

Of pot soaked sheets

Sleeping away

What once was creative

Potenitally contemplative

For a mumbling shrug

Dont you see the trajectory

Is disengaging from your family

For the sake of the “one you love”?

The enabling kind of love

Feeds his addiction

Dictating your new reality

From this mundane fiction

Creed for the Second Half

7-12-17
I’m a support
I’m a helper to break the bottle
On the ships that will sail
I’m an audience
Applauding the one one who
Runs the race
I stand in the sand, shade my eyes and wave
As they fly away up over the mountians
I will hold your hand
And let go when it’s time
I will rejoice with you as you move forward
To stand still with you in the process
Is my goal
To enjoy you as you wait with frustration
Anymore
It is not for me to take the canter light
To hold anyone’s gaze as I fly high
It is no longer for me to move, rock or shake
I will not create fire
Or blaze a path
I will not be the goal of many
I will not create mighty visions
Or desireable positions
All I do create will be incidental
Supporting you
I will stand
In awe
Of beauty
In admiration
With joy
I will walk with you
And I will stand in the sand