9:11 10/15/2004

used to write, passionate, something
major to say, but now I'm bored,
trying to fill 40 lines, with meaning,
writing an exploration into one's imagination
wanting stories, thoughts and ideas that

both cause us to think, and we can relax,
like plopping down into a big huge chair
of feathers, as the pillows are torn open,
because we can sit back and be entertained
try to avoid beautiful language

and what for, what isn't beautiful
about what a photographer sees in
front of his lens, the truth in what
is presented to us, I have to see the
beauty in what is otherwise, taken for granted

if the language is ugly tell me there
isn't something beautiful about the
ideas I'm conveying, oh right I'm a man
so perhaps, it's handsome, wouldn't want
to get caught up, meterosexuality, etc.

or is that anyone with an I.Q. over 80
that realizes you can be clean and
look nice yet secure in who you are
they had to invent a term for fem
you might catch in loafers, trousers

and a dress shirt instead of a sports shirt
and what kind of literature is that, or
who really cares what the trends are
when they can just as easily be themselves
and if they're cool about it perhaps create

some trends of their own, we're followers, yet
there's money in telling you what to do,
used to care, but this world is on it's own
course, if we help anybody that's fine if
we don't; to evoke emotion that's fine too

a way for me to visit the world through
my imagination, and unload my baggage
to be shipped elsewhere, luggage I would
love to lose, although it always finds
me in Cleveland without any identification!