Move On Up

There was a brief time when I didn't write
quite shocked that someone was so concerned
fear maybe that something happened? (or someone)
no but my muse is anything but constant
I may wake up with thoughts that act like they will
drive me to madness if not expressed
a mania that seroquel and lithium don't arrest

Not every (if any) thought is worth writing about
I dare say if I really thought about the bulk
of what I attempt to claim as poetry
nothing would be worth of construction
a guilt in wasting other's time in interpretation
actually find humor when a slant that was never intended
is given by a observant reader brave enough
to make sense of my gibberish

Likewise after years in the classroom
my eyes were trained to detect errors in others pens
but not so critical with my own
perhaps because of the value of other's compositions
in contrast to the productions from my feeble mind
and admiration to writers who seem to stretch the broad landscape
of poetic themes and styles for my palate feels quite limited
true we generally write for ourselves and yet I do wonder
if my trite wordings have alienated someone who
earlier gave thoughtful critiques of my compositions

So don't fret none if nothing is here
need not bother your mind
the well is just out of water
keep that keyboard (ink) going
for the world is a better place because of what you do!

"Bite your lip and take a trip
Though there may be wet road ahead
And you cannot slip so what you wanna do
Just move on up for peace you will find
Into the steeple of beautiful people where there's only one kind"



Lyrics courtesy of Curtis Mayfield (Move On Up)