I am not a poet. <br />Just witness to this misplaced empathy of Our generation. <br />A tragic inability to identify with others. <br />A societal alien. <br />Idioms, customs and personal spheres; I offer <br />A thousand pardons for my unconscious <br />And unconventional inconvenience. <br />Please understand that I am still learning - <br /> <br />These days just go by, <br />And each night I try and try <br />To grasp it all in my time <br />To hold just what-footing <br />Continues to stay strong. <br />And each day I’ll just stroll along <br />With no one to be fooling <br />You know it’s a fine reason to be booing. <br /> <br />And it’s hard to maintain some semblance <br />When my thoughts remain alone <br />With no enabler to enhance them <br />Studied steps with no music to dance with. <br />Bemoan, bemoan, bemoan. <br /> <br />And I try to simplify <br />All the thoughts flowing in my mind <br />Where do you start? <br />How do you stop all that’s wrong <br />And turn it all around? <br /> <br />Take what enjoyment you can from every experience, <br />And take what you can from everyone <br />And give what you can to everyone. <br />Because soon enough it will all become old <br />Because soon enough you will become old<br /><br />Floyd Crenshaw<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/senseless-revisions/
