“If it doesn’t come bursting out of you
In spite of everything
Don’t do it.”
Charles Bukowski
He spoke of a bluebird
He had inside
How he” poured whiskey on him
And inhaled cigarette smoke”.
I tried to drown mine
Its song too painful
To hear, I choked it with
Swallowed tears and smoke
Still it didn’t die
Worn on thin sleeves
Always feeling
Pushing, prodding me to sing
I couldn’t choke down the song
Life bled it from me
Year after year
The year my mother went crazy
The year my father died
The year love showed me
How cruel it could be
Life teaches the song
Blank pages filled with its notes
There is a harmony to the chaos
It’s called breathing.
