Beauty blossoms from the Ashes.

James Krill’s Blog.

Poem #7 : and note.

May21

NOTE: This 30 days of poems is taking me a lot longer than thirty days, obviously.  I apologize but hope people are enjoying the poems… I suppose this is 30-newparent/lifeischanging-days of poems.

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So is this what it feels like
To give up “career” and “intellectualism”?
A silent surrendering of dreams long extinguished
Bubbling just beneath my pierced aspirations
Reason and Art, neurons and transmitters
The war in my mind is but a memory
And the last shots echo out as the survivors
Forget why they are fighting

The battle between academia and simplicity
Walking on top or holding up the platform
Giving the lectures or preparing the sound
Receiving the glory or being help long forgotten
Having a place at the table or watching from behind the glass
While my blood, my beautiful world, screams in my ear;
the sound of the end of importance, at least, seen importance

There’s a street in heaven which does not have a name
Which nobody notices and nobody cares
And all of the residents look exactly the same
Their faces full of fatigue and their eyes full of tears
They were given the choice, so long long ago
To know everything ever there was you could know
But rather then sleep on magnificent sheets
And discuss all the rage through a mic on a stage
They decided to die, to give up on their lives
And relinquish their pride
And soon - very soon, they were forgotten
Almost erased, quite literally displaced
From the front to the back
From first to last

It’s hard when you feel inadequate
Especially when you always felt you were the best
Arrogance?  Well yeah it still lingers
How can one honestly give up thinking they are better than everyone else,
Without then immediately feeling like they are better than everyone else?

And it’s hard to let go of being brilliant
Or at least the shadowy dream
Because you begin to feel worthless
And that is an empty pit to lie in
That is a dark cloud to fly through
And the turbulence inside that space
Crumbles the strongest of wills

Perhaps I am not letting go of brilliance
Perhaps brilliance is letting go of significance

posted under Poetry

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