You don’t have to go, you’re my Poetry Man

It’s funny how life leads us back to the past when we least expect it.  I’ve been missing me, and wanting to get back to me for a long time now, and now that I am back I am not so sure this is where I want to be.  Am I lost?  I am not so sure.  Some days I feel as if I am exactly where I should be and others, I am so far away from the person and the place I want to be it breaks my heart.

I picked up my guitar this afternoon to pour my heart out, and it came-it came with abandon.  I am willingly holding my wrist out for it to be cut and I am happy about it, such is bliss.  There must be something in me that is flawed and scared or maybe I am completely coherent and cognitive, craving experience, quickening my life.  Conflicted?  To say the least.  It’s my own personal dualism.  That is what makes it all so tricky.  One moment I want it all-decadence, debauchery, lust, risk, the ultimate edge- and the next moment, only purity.  Who am I?  Who I’ve always been…society just snuck in a little bit.

I am ready to walk freely into my decision, but I am not sure it will be that willingly, without judgment or guilt.  I am not sure it will be without challenge, tears and drama.  But, I want nothing else, and nothing more at the moment.

So for now, I revisit the bohemian artist dwelling within my soul.  She always wants to come out to play when I am conflicted.  I wish, with everything in my soul, that I have the strength to live within her or banish her once and for all.  The latter will never occur.  It’s impossible to let oneself disappear even if it is something that may be the absolute best thing for living and surviving in this harsh, real, financially driven, materialistic world.  That world has no place for  her-the sensualist, the lover, the beautiful dreamer.  And so she suffers.  But she willingly and almost joyfully suffers the cut that only cuts the heart.

The Poetry Man:

You make me laugh

Cause your eyes they light the night

They look right through me

You bashful boy

You’re hiding something sweet

Please give it to me yeah, to me

Talk to me some more

You don’t have to go

You’re the Poetry Man

You make things all rhyme

You are a genie

All I ask for is your smile

Each time I rub the lamp

When I am with you

I have a giggling teen-age crush

Then I’m a sultry vamp

Talk to me some more

You don’t have to go

You’re the Poetry Man

You make things all right

So once again

It’s time to say so long

And so recall the cull of life

You’re going home now

Home’s that place somewhere you go each day

To see your wife

Talk to me some more

You don’t have to go

You’re the Poetry Man

You make things all rhyme

**Phoebe Snow, 1975

Thank you Miss Snow for this beautiful tune and understanding lyrics.  You will be terribly missed, a voice of an angel who is now among angels.

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