Dealing with Disconnection
I feel quite a sense of disconnect
Since my neighborhood has changed.
I wonder what it is that I need to protect
When I act like I need to pretend
That everything’s cool, and I know where it’s at,
Although prices are out of my range,
And the music is raunchy, and the beer is flat,
And there’s lingo I don’t comprehend;
And nobody looks like a friend.
In the morning, I’m already out of phase
When I cannot remember my dreams.
My blacks and whites turn to faded grays,
Grown blurry through the smudging of time.
When there’s too many details that living requires
And my pockets have broken their seams,
And I’m trapped in the angst of unmet desires
Like keys that I can’t seem to find.
Why can’t my experience rhyme?!
I work too many hours on “creative” endeavors:
On conflicting feelings, and honest confessions.
Do I say it directly or try to be clever?
How much do I need to explain?
I’ve been tracing the patterns I see in my bubble,
But is that an authentic expression?
Is my purpose to project this endless struggle
I don’t always know how to contain?
Is my purpose to entertain?
Sometimes, frankly, I just feel pathetic
In my every-day interactions;
Amongst worldly people, so spry and athletic,
Or so irreverently involved,
While I pass my days, never quite knowing
How to show my romantic attractions,
But life keeps on going, and going, and going.
My goals remain unresolved,
And around them my lifetimes revolve, and evolve, and dissolve,
And reach out endlessly for something that’s real;
Take the trouble where my help might is needed.
I never forget what I hold ideal,
But I deal with what’s happening now!
It may not be simple but I seek for the center,
And I don’t want to be conceited,
But since I have to be -- I will be my own mentor.
While truth is something that must be allowed,
I’ll take my stand, though I might not know how!
Still, I feel an estrangement that’s so profound
That I no longer feel estranged!
I’m just glad I’ve still got my feet on the ground
While untangling the spells I’ve been under;
I find that it’s work to follow my bliss,
And it’s struggle to roll with the strangeness;
To move beyond all the chances I’ve missed;
Building, as I can, on my blunders,
And . . . . I wonder, when I can,
Upon wonder!
