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
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.
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.