Friday, September 9, 2011

Pink Diamonds, Wet Tears And The Voices In My Head

Why do folks kill one another for diamonds and emeralds when there are big chunks of broken 7 Up bottles and busted windshields all over the streets? Then again, why do fools fall in love? I'm busy trying to reconnect my head with my heart and I suspect that I'm failing at it. Again.

I'm happy about who I am except for when I'm not. I wish I had secrets to keep. Too late. I will tell anybody anything. Don't misunderstand. If you ask me to keep a secret I can. I will. Those are your secrets, though, not mine. I have no mystique. I suppose that makes me something of the Anti-Dylan, huh?

Everyone is good to me. I mean really good. I like that. Sorta' takes all the pressure off of buying lotto tickets.

I should work harder but then it wouldn't really be the work that I'm meant to do, would it? We all have unique roles in the cosmos but I have come to see mine as unique among the unique. I'm holding mirrors up to mirrors here but I'm doing it all in the key of C. No sharps, no flats, all white keys. Of course we're gonna have to go to some minors here if it's headed for sad, but I'd rather not. I don't want any more blues just now.

I hope love becomes the rage again. All hep and all fashionable. Boy!
Me and my cousin, Jimmy. I can't recall our dates' names. Maybe Jimmy remembers.

1 comment:

  1. Ronny, are your dates the Southern Belles at the old Cypress Gardens???