We, the mediocre poets
Always hanging by the hem of a poem
Not quite finding the magical words
That’d prick your soul, trick your soul
We twist our meaning to your rhyme
We, the average philosophers
Forever lurking at the edge of truth
Not quite summoning the courage
To truly embrace what we know
To truly know what we have embraced
We, the half-way rebels
Standing for long with angst in our songs
Not quite unleashed, unsheathed
Squatted upon our ivory towers
With clenched fists and rectum, and eunuch rage
We, the settled down nomads
With ancient wanderlust on our breath
That reeks of moss upon rolling stones
Sitting aside our bundled belongings
Disintegrating within our make-shift abodes
We, yes, we- you, and you, and me
Fence sitters forevermore
Siding with war, but longing for peace
Waiting for madmen and messiahs
To set us free, and let us be
4 comments:
Great poem M and so right. The blog world is full of would be poets all of whom condem this and that (me included) but in reality do little about it.
I somehow find beauty in mediocricy. Its the imperfection in us that makes us admirable. Ever since i have been a part of the blogging scene, i have been amazed by the amount of talent thats literally floating in this massive space not even hoping to be noticed. Its just there,cos it makes the writer happy to be writing it, to be sharing it, to be learning thru it. And most of these people are no professional, they dont write to make a living. They come from different walks of life. All , power houses of talent. Your poem is a testemony to the talent in you= half-baked. and the talent in me and all the others who comment here to appreciate, love and connect to what you write= this talent too , halfbaked! :)
CJ: Thanks my man, CJ.
Nita Arvind: Here's to half baked talents like you and me, cheers!
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