Wednesday, March 4, 2009
5:26 AM ● Failure And Paranoia: A Poem

The forhead of woman on the stage furrowed as she called out "Any last poems? Does anyone want to read any more poems for Coffee House Night?" And before I could stop myself, I hopped up to do so. The poem:

Parts of the day I find myself saving words said because they were said for my comfort, but in no way to me.
I am not discouraged-I have failed and no courage to say at what.
People don't know, but somehow they do because they disaprove.
A passerby utters nothing- NO THING to me; he knows.
My impatient waitress at the resturant; she knows.
And I see that my cat knows.
Darn. Failure is a sting so no one is listening as I writhe underneath.
Honest eyes, though can't keep much inside
Because there I find what I can't hide:
I chose failure.
Let it be.

I left the speaker's stand and wondered if anyone had actually listened.

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( Run to the city. )