Dont tell me you’ll call/
or do something, not, then ask,/
me if I’m Obsessed!

Alternative, written at 7:01 May 9th:
Dont say you’ll call or/
do things, not follow through, then/
ask if I’m Obsessed!

Obsessed with doing,/
I waste no time reviewing/
who with. It’s a gift.

Our capriciousness/
is not good for me or us,/
I’d bet good money.

When some1 says/
“It’s up 2 u/
2 pick the ways/
and what you wanna do”,/
and U never respond,/
even on a whim,/
they’ll get for sure/
some1 is not that fond/
of them.

I suppose/
every creative effort/
has rules,/
but when they remove/
my tools/
to create,/
then shouldn’t I excuse/
myself and my/
muse/
and find/
another workshop 2 use?

I went to a friend’s dance the other day — more of a contemplative — almost spiritual — event than a party/social theme. Surprisingly, I felt like an outsider … especially since I didn’t realize there were unwritten rules about no texting (my primary form of creative efforts these days) and no talking. The next several poems are about that. Lest anyone misunderstand, I am NOT being critical of these people or the group… it’s simply an observation of how I didn’t fit in… much to my disapointment.

Old friends embrace/
and Dance,/
while I, solemn-faced,/
sway, text, and don’t chance/
2 jump and sway/
and prance/
the long, slow, energetic way/
they can./
I rock.

Alternative ending after I was told to put my texting phone away:
Old friends embrace,/
Dance,/
while I, solemn-faced,/
stay and don’t chance/
2 jump, sway/
and prance/
the long, slow, creative way/
they can./
I can’t create/
my say.

Low-hanging fruit leaves/
you with not a lot to say./
You can’t just play cute.

Baseball is in full/
swing. You’re too busy this spring./
Good luck with your things.

A sabbatical/
isn’t what you want at all./
Just resign. It’s fine.

I expect her to/
write and stop the pain, when I/
have writing to do.