Life As An Art Form Poem by trebor reyd

Writing poetry
It isn’t nice I tell you
It isn’t flowers and kittens and butterflies
Oh, it can be…but not for me

Its ups and downs
Wrong and rights
Trips and falls
Unscheduled flights
Of the cortex spin cycle vortex
Tornado like forces that filter and give
Sporadic glimpses of the lives I live
As the elevator sling shots pass the floors
Ejecting thoughts from behind trapped doors
Shoe boxes spilled of places I’ve been
Who I was were and what I was when
Symphonies of dis-chorded notes

WAIT…THAT”S IT

It’s jazz man
It’s life man
Full of strife man

It’s Dizzy blaring at 90 Miles an hour
Coltrane stepping to the edge of tones sour
Dissonant tracks on Byrd’s’ broken wings
Farlow and Django plucking at my heart strings
Harmonious playback of all of these things
That brings me back to today
Feeling this way

So if it’s all right with my pen
Let me play
For You

(©rad081508)