Tuesday, November 01, 2005


The discouraged flower
Run around in a circle, they do,First full swing, like a bulldozerAgainst an innocent wallLick their woundsThey doLaying wasted on the road of good intentions
I wanted to save the worldThey all sayAmong their tearsWhat a fool was IThey say so bitterly, defeated
Weeping with the weeping willowThey contemplateSurvival in a waste land, away from even their dream
No more dreams of novelsNo more thought of the masterpieceNo more, they swear, willThey aspire to be like the great onesNow, a dependable paycheckThey will findA boring lifeThey will liveAt least full, their belly will be
So many of them Lost in their own shadow!
Cool breeze, sent them I didNot all at once Rome was build, I tell themOne day, one hour at a time,Weave your masterpiece.Take the long view,Better one concrete painting every ten years,Then dreams of twelve an hour
Cool breeze I sent them againBeginning artists need one of theseA wealthy patron, a day job, a personal fortune or unshakable self confidenceA simple lifestyle goes a long way,When building your field of dreams in this real world,But most of all faith in yourself and your message you need,Then of service, you may be.
So Deerie,Don’t try, doDream land does not existTake the steps necessaryLife outside of your bliss, is not worth living.