Performance.

“Performance”

A whistle in the clouds
bellows through my heart:
My lungs fill with air
and the tragedy of adulthood,
which ensues traumatically,
has benefits outreaching
that of teenage years.
In times that change
and people that change,
we reaffirm a goal:
Never be alone.
This ride has too many seats
To ever, ever be alone.
This couch is not built
For one.

“Come as you are,
as you were,
as I want you to be”
As our Zen Nirvana once
told a world of hostile youth.
You are meant to be
a singer/songwriter.
Yes, every one of you
Young and old
Beautiful, unattractive:
all alike in dignity.
Bobby, Dylan, Kurt,
sang so you could sing,
in your shower,
in your bedroom.

Staying consistent, a narrative
set in the first person,
but not a self-depiction--
self-inspired. Nevertheless,
neverless. Never “The” less.
The times, the change,
The things we were taught
and had to learn to forget
One page at a time.
We became clean again
and found serenity
More grandiose than
we were taught
to imagine in pictures.

A book of poems doesn’t sell,
A book of songs doesn’t sell,
A book of art sells
as long as it’s someone else.
A performance; ah, now that sells.
So a performer we must become,
and steps taken to that goal
makes every move a performance.
Life: The Rehearsal;
Life: The Performance.

-IIIIOOIO.