Do you believe in rhetoric?

(I know this is rather long but I think it reads better if you think of the stanzas to be seperate poems that are connected which is why I could not put them into another piece. Please do take the time to read it. I would appreciate an opinion.. And if you can't wade through 'cause it's that dull.. lemme know :) Really? Do you think that just because I stop and no one notices, I cannot prance just for me? I cannot reach with puppet arms, Or frolic with the strings attached? Who says I am not good enough? Is there a standard by which to judge? Where was the base line? Because I think I missed it. Or maybe my crime is walking Down another dark alley... Dreams dare to pave barren hope. Moolah casts pearls Along gold beaches... I toil for the hugs. What are to become of mine? Ordinary is just a word. And we search for the little extra. But don’t look too hard... Don’t go searching for something That you may already have, But thought you were too good for. I don't understand... How can you be too good for you? Why would you want to be? Why the idea of socialization? Having different sexes was hard enough, But someone threw gender into the middle And left us thinking up measly equations That can never be equated, Can never be the same, Or better than any other. Right. Wrong. Judge me. Tell me my whole system of existing is wrong. I could breathe and be grateful, Yet suffocate for lack of fresh air, For lack of enough faith; I whine. What measure have I been given? And why can I not measure it? I complain about what I have not received, When I have obtained everything I deserve, And what I need or want is irrelevant. Who knows if it shall ever be? But bleeding hearts want to see Something visual, Some thing that unleashes creativity, That bleeds along with me... Did you know that when life ends We let it flow, Like it was going somewhere? Did you know that of all that’s been said, How little must have been felt Or heard? I too am a piece Of some monistic puzzle. But I am not the key. I can make nothing whole as yet, When the emptiness swarms in Through shores that are still unchartered... I fear every step I take. Life is funny. Did you know that I have lost a life? That I see through eyes, Viewing a different world before, That I breathe an air, Smelling apart from the gusts I knew, That I am caught in a picture, Looking so pretty from afar, But too has gone bad in some places. That scares me. I fear the shadow that dares to peek Into my waking world. I fear breath. And me, And that every hug shall remove me further from me, From love, From affection, And yet I cling for more. Give me anything to make it so... Give me anything to make it stop. How dare fear motivate anything but itself? Why dare it? When it breeds a cycle we all need And use more than food. Capitalize on it now! And why not, When death has not been spared? Funny, funny, funny. I will never know everything. So how much can I change? The world is beyond any grasp I know of. When water slips out of my needy fingers, Who or what shall keep me From slipping through? Comparisons – always looking for a comparative, An analogy to me. What could be me? But me that is a half broken leaf, Wandering and searching. "Why honey? You look sad my love.” Pretty mommy, pretty dad... You worry more and more That you’re going to lose your grip. Don’t cling on so tight That I bend in the process.... Must you see me soar above the world? And why should I? Who says I deserve a bird’s eye view Of something I have never seen? Looking over the tops Of other people’s heads Shall hardly make me feel... Get in the action, Be the action. Throw yourself into it. Be subjective! But why? What is my truth? Need I be true? Lest you imagine me into oblivion, Because people have done that, When I speak of how I feel… Faces turn, questions yield no replies. Why do we worry so much About tripping and falling over each other That we fall all over ourselves, Until there’s nothing left Except a bruised carcass Of self inflicted wounds? Why can a daisy not bloom Because it wants to? Must we connect? Why needn’t my stomach take a holiday, Just ‘cause it needs a break? Where am I in the scheme of this? Why must I flake away? Alive – but what does that mean anyway? Except that the wind fingers my hair And plants rugged kisses on eyes That have only seen What they believe to be… If they had a mind of their own, Do you think they would see the truth? Would the holographic images of you and me disappear? Would land be barren? Or full of fruit, Like the apple that lay in wake? Would there still be a purpose? Would there be me but me? Me without me? .....……………. But oh what is to be, If there is no me? For I shall not know of it. And then it doesn’t matter If it existed at all. So whom do you care for? And why? Written February 23rd, 2002 © on Feb 23 2002 12:33 AM PST   18 • 0 • 10