more moaning about my predicament

the poet’s pursuit is an ethics foe
and the he or the she who dares compose
a lyric in praise of sweet solitude
can count on forfeiting support

while pouring a forbidden foundation.
Being alone most of the time
is not being alone all of
the time. Fantasy is fantasy.

I miss the ache of knowing my age
situates me outside the range
of the bouquet, mobile and tan.
Miss drink, smoke, being a dirty old man.

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
This entry was posted in lamentation, poetry, thoughts and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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