Senseless Revisions Poem by Floyd Crenshaw

I am not a poet.
Just witness to this misplaced empathy of Our generation.
A tragic inability to identify with others.
A societal alien.
Idioms, customs and personal spheres; I offer
A thousand pardons for my unconscious
And unconventional inconvenience.
Please understand that I am still learning -

These days just go by,
And each night I try and try
To grasp it all in my time
To hold just what-footing
Continues to stay strong.
And each day I’ll just stroll along
With no one to be fooling
You know it’s a fine reason to be booing.

And it’s hard to maintain some semblance
When my thoughts remain alone
With no enabler to enhance them
Studied steps with no music to dance with.
Bemoan, bemoan, bemoan.

And I try to simplify
All the thoughts flowing in my mind
Where do you start?
How do you stop all that’s wrong
And turn it all around?

Take what enjoyment you can from every experience,
And take what you can from everyone
And give what you can to everyone.
Because soon enough it will all become old
Because soon enough you will become old