I’m learning.
Do you ever feel that life is so beautiful you can’t conceive it? It’s all some great mystery that you will never fully grasp, no matter how hard you try, it is always in vain. As I drive down the road in the dusk (apropos in its name: Pleasant Hill), the trees curling one by one on top of the next like some great dance and a swirling melody coming from the radio, I feel as if my cream colored compact car is the only thing holding my body in place, and my body the only thing holding my organs and blood in place. I want to burst. I imagined I would. The trees skirt above me like they know my name, and I am home. If only for a moment, I am home.
I will never get that back. But there’s my mystery. There’s more mystery for me to feel out there. Sometimes I wish I were simpler so that I could enjoy things without feeling as if I am a part of them. I feel as if I am a part of everything. I don’t just see the world around me; I taste it. I melt into it.
God help me! I can’t be normal. I can’t even be abnormal.
What am I supposed to do with that? I hate pressure but I love performing. I hate compliments but I crave respect. I hate reality but I love life. I don’t understand myself.
I know I know a nose to smell with
I see my sea from which I float
I flick my fingers nervously
I cannot cannot build my boat
I want I wish I try to listen
Listless as the thistles thicken
Chicken calls like cows at milking
Bravery is made to gloat
Thunder clapping heeds a lesson
Strikes a tired imagination
Staring far across the fields
The raining is my coat
It drowns into a moat
My castle on an island
Away from all you thieves
and goats; I say I stay
No note.
Do you ever feel that life is so beautiful you can’t conceive it? It’s all some great mystery that you will never fully grasp, no matter how hard you try, it is always in vain. As I drive down the road in the dusk (apropos in its name: Pleasant Hill), the trees curling one by one on top of the next like some great dance and a swirling melody coming from the radio, I feel as if my cream colored compact car is the only thing holding my body in place, and my body the only thing holding my organs and blood in place. I want to burst. I imagined I would. The trees skirt above me like they know my name, and I am home. If only for a moment, I am home.
I will never get that back. But there’s my mystery. There’s more mystery for me to feel out there. Sometimes I wish I were simpler so that I could enjoy things without feeling as if I am a part of them. I feel as if I am a part of everything. I don’t just see the world around me; I taste it. I melt into it.
God help me! I can’t be normal. I can’t even be abnormal.
What am I supposed to do with that? I hate pressure but I love performing. I hate compliments but I crave respect. I hate reality but I love life. I don’t understand myself.
I know I know a nose to smell with
I see my sea from which I float
I flick my fingers nervously
I cannot cannot build my boat
I want I wish I try to listen
Listless as the thistles thicken
Chicken calls like cows at milking
Bravery is made to gloat
Thunder clapping heeds a lesson
Strikes a tired imagination
Staring far across the fields
The raining is my coat
It drowns into a moat
My castle on an island
Away from all you thieves
and goats; I say I stay
No note.
Another Adventure 
I love this poem! I want to sing it!
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