Why
Why
Oh Why
Just Can’t I

Open up my eye

And see how come I always rhyme

I keep doing this, but to
this way I must say bye

So now I must look somewhere deep in my brain,
and increase the gap by fibbonaccaye

No matter what, I know there’s a way,
to get to a poem that still has its own sway,
so I’ll keep writing more whether I’m sober or high

I find it gets harder, at this point here,
the words aint so easy up past fifty.
I know it’s not impossible though,
it’s just words then words more,
plucked from the air, intellect or soul.
How many words have we each before we die?

How long would a phrase last before it ran out?
Can we keep going forever, day and night?
I don’t know. I’d guess neither do you.
It seems the best are the ones that have done it the most.
Is this the machine that never grows old?
The one thing that will outlast even our world?
King says if you’re bad, you’ll never be good,
and good then not great no matter how much you’re time goes by.

Now I have to reach one-fourty-four.
Will it make a difference, make me any more?
It’s much like society, we each have a goal,
and then as well work together and aim as a whole.
What’s really the point, where is it going?
What am I trynna say, what’s keeping this growin?
I don’t know why I carry on still.
Does it work with my life, give me what I need to do?
The many things I got, I’m not missing much.
I get up at 8 and go to work till my lunch.
then for one hour I’m free again,
sixty whole minutes to wander and stare.
To take in the world, these times, they aint rare.
To say it was all bad would be somewhat of a lie.

It’s been like two weeks now since I wrote what’s above
I’ve carried on with my life like we all do today
I still have no idea why I’m doing this now
But by going on and on I’m increasing my load
I’m trynna find out how, before I’m way too old
Then there’s another question, how old is that?
How long are we vital and imaginitve too
How many years have I held myself to
What’s the shelf life
Where’s it go
How do I know
If I should keep on goin.
So even with things up to two-thirty-three
Is it really of use, or am I just killing time
Wishing away all of what’s mine?
It seems I haven’t a foggiest clue
I don’t have the knowledge and
I’m sure neither do you.
But then there I go off again, rhyming like that
Not very balanced and actually pretty flat.
Ha! there it goes again, moving me on
Must it be like a song?
Can I even hear it?
Will it guide me right or wrong
Can it really be so hard not to rhyme

Now it gets to this point
I might as well just use prose
If I’m just trailing off on a non-random tangent
Not meaning anything. Cos that’s the way it goes
So wondering why I bother it so
Why can’t I just totally let it go
But then there’s another
And I’m sure they’ll be more
Just sticking on one was never my thing
I always bounce around like a directionless fool
Doing whatever I feel like doing
I know one day it’ll bite me in the ass
I’ll be doing something I shouldn’t
Or in a way it shouldn’t be done
I’ll accidentally destroy the world
Or pick my nose at a meeting
Or something.
But then you know how this thing usually ends
We get a career and wear out our dreams
And who knows why we start with them anyway
Where do they get us?
What do they bring?
Innocence and happiness a gift I agree
But shouldn’t we be using them in the best possible way
Not squander and ruin for each little ‘need’
It takes a lot but it doesn’t take much
At least I imagine of it to be as such
So up it comes and ages pass
And each of us gradually empties our glass
Pouring it bit by bit over our path
Completion is I think a wonderous thing
Not knowing what else even then it’ll bring
Is there a light or whatever you know
I just don’t give a damn, I don’t wanna know
I want it unknown, to haunt us for all
Maybe it’s just what we need
Maybe a great mystery, a truth or a fact
Who really knows or cares, wait for surprise
Let it wash over you when you finally get there.