Sunday, November 21, 2010

Will I Be Satisfied

May 10th, 2009

By a Desk Job,

Making schedules and phone calls galore?

A dark room lit by an induced screen?

Paper by brads with phone in hand?

Placing scrims to block light I’ve just purposed?

Emissions to ease lack of sleep by cappuccino?

To further an image of stereotypes, exploitation, impossibilities, narcissism, and glory?

Years of waiting


For the silver opportunity

That most never get,

While envy and doubt surmount.

It comes to facts of personal being

Or at least its displacement by bravado

Or earnestness.

Do I like constant warfare to be original?

Do I like skipping several nights of sleep to work on crappy projects?

Do I like driving to subsist?

Do I want to make a name more than a difference?

Community dependency can be found in both

This place and the one called home,

But this one has more opportunity for burning,

And that one less potential for a match.

Do I want to learn something useful for the days to come?

Do I want to thrive instead of flounder?

Do I want space contracted

Or at least thinned?

Do I want to help the ever increasing,

Never to cease,

Dying of want,

By providing the water of life

And fields of plenty?

Money does come near:

Providing time for the page and the world;

Ability to help friends in need

While keeping the level of life you’ve known.

Less creative,


More substantial,


Turning what is held into hobby won’t kill

Like the chase of the occupation will.

Grabbing onto the dream

Gone across town,

Rounding the corner again

Would lift life past limitations

To the path which was

Former and naive

Into remastered Technicolor

With the director calling the cuts.

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