GARY

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  • Life

    GARY

    Gary...

     

    I knew this guy named Gary, who calls me M Jane....
    He feels my color is nothin new, my hue is just the same...
    I, to him am an ordinary legend, there is nothing different, I am every green leaf on every tree, no exciting oranges or reds to show that the seasons have changed,
    The cool breeze of Fall hasnt arrived,
    I remind him that summer yet still remains...
    Not that my nature is not beautiful, it is just simply bland,
    I am pale in comparison because my artist forgot to blend.
    I to him am a replica of what one decent artist did before,
    I am riddled with ill explained fallacies, impossible to ignore.
    I downplayed my natures natural hue, so that the Gary's wouldn't walk away,
    But I gained empty measures because I neglected myself so that they could
    stay.
    But fortunately I discovered that being vivid  and interesting is a matter not small.  So I am leaving behind the Gary's and accepting me, All.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    blvdobd2009’s Poems (103)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
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