“So I hear your a poet as well as a hero,so what kind of poetry?” I was asked out of the blue..
I had no real answer so I blushed then mumbled out that just because I’m called a poet or hero does not really make me one
“So what do you write about then?” they pressed
Lately its been much rubbish about water and nonsense about an old pair of boots,I ordered another drink to fill some space that would hopefully change the topic
“Before all of this,what do you write about? Girls? Does it rhyme?”
Inhaling my pint I set the glass down,called for another and added I write about that..pointing to the empty glass
“Why can’t you just explain it to me?” was asked with a quick puff of annoyance
My facial expressions usually give me away but it seems it was not being noticed by this point so after a sip of my drink,knocking it to a half I let it fly..
I write a lot about being born broken hearted of sorts and seeing beauty in the dirt of this city
bad romantic notions of the world looking better most days through the bottom of an empty pint glass,a smoking streetlight as a muse
feeling backwards in a forward falling universe of constant turbulant anxiety
a laugh in the rainy doorway on avenue A
people squarely questioning round feelings and words for the sake of words
“Umm ok,and people like this?”..”I guess I will take your word for it”
I finished my pint
told her to look me up
and thanked her for the poem that she just wrote
“feeling backwards in a forward falling universe ”
love love love ur word spinnings
You can really hear your voice thru your words. A lot of writers write pretty things about things they seem to know nothing about. You write about what u know and feel and to me its honestly beautiful.
always keep spinning