Bukowski told me not to do it
if it doesn’t come bursting out of me,
in spite of everything
if I have to wait for it
to roar out of me, he told me
wait patiently
but I say patience
is just passion tamed
I want mine feral, and raw
and unbroken
for we are all little children
each born with a song on our hearts
if not our lips
we walk the ocean’s shore
seeking that one perfect shell
the one waiting
just for us
don’t stop, don’t you dare
look, and look, and look some more
until you find the one
that smiles back at you
then you’ll know
because then the song will come
oh, it will come
bursting, or bubbling
flowing, or falling
no matter, none at all
it’s your song
then She will smile