Friday, May 6, 2011

Come on

No idea how I got here.
Mornings blend
Of caffeine and brake lights,
Cigarettes and stop lights.

Long days broke
n by short nights.

Cold rain bone ache
Bearing the weight
One borne to fate,
Elated I have the ability
To relate this
Tuesday morning feeling.

"great men or even men a little out of the common, that is to say capable of giving some new word, must from their very nature be criminals—more or less, of course. Otherwise it's hard for them to get out of the common rut; and to remain in the common rut is what they can't submit to, from their very nature again, and to my mind they ought not, indeed, to submit to it. You see that there is nothing particularly new in all that.

-Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky"

I repeat myself
A sediment of sentiment
Past on through the ages
A chip off the old block
Not the diamond but the silt
A voice not of greatness
But one of the common
Calling from the cavernous rut
Where most stand muted in anticipation.

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