Your Guess Is As Good As Mine

I do believe I previously stated herein that I would not inflict my poetry on you, the unsuspecting blog public. Yes, I did -- right here. So abandon ship, save yourselves, I've gone and done it. Perhaps a reaction to the soul-deadening effect of working for the Man or to having to explain what 'practicable' and 'deleterious' mean to people who make twice my salary, this just had to come out. I'm not totally satisfied, but self-editing for me is the delete button. So forthwith and forsooth, my offering.

Quite Possible (or maybe My Times)

a poem by J. Smitten

It is quite possible that I will

when all is said and done, be still

outwardly

while raging inside at the sheer

lunacy

of my times

(this is not the times owned by the masses which are lamented

Oh the Times!

whether they be a-changin' or not

no, not those times at all)

MY times which ought be loud

with laughter and loving, yet crowd

silently

forward brimming with the sharp

focus

of the aware

(my times are not delivered to your doorstep

Nor should they be!

for they don't delight or quite frankly show

that I'm even right)

So fair warning to him

listening raptly or not, no whim

resolutely

tilting against the Sisyphean

task

of my times

Tell all your single friends, sometimes you just have to let it all hang out.

XO, JamieSmitten