Sunday, September 13, 2015

Nine to Five

I think of the lives I would've built,
the stories that would occupy my memory.
I ponder freedom from my four by four guilt,
my possibilities shrunken to a screen...
never far from me.

I wonder at my capabilities, limits never tested,
triumphs and falls never felt, never tucked away.
My current is short, ever diminished, ill invested,
and I think of the lives in front of me, and
I have no part to play.

As a child, my accomplishment were trivial,
yet I so fondly recall them, calmed by them, proud.
When life was for fun, for love, for art, for all...
I ran, I cried with tears, I loved, I trusted...
I lived out loud.

Now here I sit...wasting time with inefficiencies,
so inappropriately using desk space to play.
What beowulf storm, what tempest treacherous seas,
took me from my childhood to this dream fallen,
adulterated day?

When did this become all of me?


  1. Reminds me of a quote I read, "Do you remember who you were before the world told you who to be?"

  2. "When life was for fun, for love, for art, for all..."
    - to me this has always been the key between our physically creative and interactive youth then and theirs now. ;)

  3. So sad. But loved the line "I lived out loud." Very special.

  4. Those last two stanzas - just perfectly captures the idea of monotony compared to the exuberant fancies of childhood. I love the phrase "Beowulf storm"

  5. So sad to feel the word shrinking to that cluttered desks the unbearable weight of brick-walls... where did we go wrong...

  6. I love the depth of feeling this emotes.

  7. Maybe, the inner child needs to come and play a barefoot in the rain and jump in puddles.