Dammit

There’s a clock in my stomach
that demands I find happiness,

a ticking within
that is counting me down.

I try not to get less serious 
than the situation demands

but it seems that the situation demands
less than I’ve so far given.

If I were a lion, I could sleep 
until I figured it out,

then go hunting with my pride
and sing myself back to sleep after.

Happiness over there, and I’m 
staring at it from here. What’s wrong 

with all these pictures
that don’t have me in them?

If you’re with me on this, no matter
where else you are, go back to sleep.

We’ll meet in the dream space,
stalk the goal of our stars.

Happiness is the balance
of waking and dreaming.

Whose fault is it 
that I am suddenly smiling? 

I’m not looking
to blame anyone

when it’s there in front of me
in spite of all my work 
to forestall it, dammit. 

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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