Today is about the life of an artist when balanced with the malady of real life. Sadly, life is a struggle right now and it is putting a serious crunch into my ability to create on demand. How does one find time to create when you are also looking at the cupboard and seeing your only serious option for calories being peanut butter and jelly or eggs–again. I don’t have time to sit and think and research the grand ideas I have for this blog.
Instead, I just struggle to find time to earn more money and create what little art that I can while between the necessary sleep. To complicate matters, I am supposedly starting school in one week, provided my financial aid status is elucidated by whatever portents the financial aid office gives me. About the only thing I can manage to compose is some somewhat righteous blues poetry, so I will share one with you here in lieu of any serious dialogue about the nature of art and how it may come about.
Hey I’ve Lived Cold
Hey I’ve lived cold,
tangled beneath the sheets
days gone long to the gray
senses switched up to fool
you try to raise the heat
but just can’t find your cool.
So you hide in the blues
and wait for the rising sun
to thaw away the grief
and save for the day to say
hey I’ve lived cold.
Begging for some low scratch
from hard hours, knuckles worn
broke digging for a bone
and when you reach the prize
it is already gnawed
but you pocket the change
because to you it’s gold
and in your joy you sing
deeply and unbeckoned
hey I’ve lived cold
standing in the the bread line,
your place at the first
but you worry you’ll be last
so you pull the coat tight
and chew on your cracked lip
keeping your chin held up
and pray to slip the slump.
But when your number’s passed
you say under your breath
hey I’ve lived cold.
Beachpoet 