This morn I try to start anew
With some words I hardly ever stew
I’m not sure why it only manifests in rhyme
It feels like, and this is an easy one, there’s no other time.
All I can do is write in rhythm
Or a Sam Maxwell version of that at least.
Neither a script
Nor a book
Nor a songwriting hook
Is the path I chose to get my creations going on this Thursday day of December.
There has been a considerable lack of typing in my life
But you already know that
‘Cause that’s all I’ve really written about on here.
When I write poetry
I don’t always stay fancy free
I blend in and out of the rhyming state of peace
Sometimes you just want to rush off without anything locking you down to one singular symphonic sound, one specific inflection that matches with another consonant’s pairing with a similar inflection.
But sometimes
There’s no stopping the rhyme
No matter how cheesy
Or how it feels like a crime
Back to time
The issue we stress over most
It’s not like I have a lot of it to roast
So, I bid you farewell, all you folks of the earth.
Or at least the corner of it that came to this circle.
Enjoy your Thursday.
Here’s some funk music.
