People are crazy, and
times are strange,
I'm locked in tight, I'm outta range,
I used to care, but things have changed.
-Bob Dylan, Things Have Changed
My Private Picasso
An empty canvas
Like my life at certain stages,
Anticipating what I will paint
Holding my breath, I wait
Hmm, the myriad of choices
"Too soon," say the voices
Let's must linger here awhile
And take stock of this guile
So much easier to see and hear,
So much to do, to be, too fear...
New beginnings, older endings,
As we face a communal rendering.
The lesson is always the
The two as one, would always remain
To find your love where it fits you best
And all the other places come to rest.
So the asshole from hell,
And the bitch from begone,
What a pair we make
We should go far, far beyond.
Whatever dreams we started
Things have taken shape before us,
That are beyond our beginnings,
As we navigate a path fortuitous.
The ghosts of pasts,
Threaten to distract us from this,
Occasionally, we endeavor,
Endeavor to persevere with bliss.
We create our own,
Carving new pathways.
We lost, and both won,
In our own unique ways.
Just hanging, by a thread,
Keeping up the façade, too?
A perilous place, you know.
This ambiguity of wants and needs
Only creates more confusion
And complicates a simplistic mind.
Wanting to create, needing to be free,
Always searching for personal freedom;
The artistic playground,
To feel unfettered, yet secure,
Where no judgment is passed,
And love is unconditional,
No matter what you've done to condemn yourself
To eternal damnation.
(or something like it)