to feed the beast of perfection
I cut loose scraps of myself
using glass shard words
other people said that
became my own inner voice
and when they finally
gave me my flowers
I could not water them
in the desert I had become.
but like all deserts,
it cannot always be dry
and flash rain will come
the moment I remember
that I have a choice
to water them or not,
for the power to terraform
my desert into an oasis
has always been within me.
About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
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Where's the Glory?
In breaking news, rehabilitated Republican Senator Johnnie Johnson (Pronouns: HE, HIM, HIS) called a press conference from the Men’s room of the New Orleans Louis Armstrong International Airport, Concourse B, across from the Ignatius Reilly’s Lucky Dog stand. The Senator had just returned from a sexual reorientation rehabilitation program in Memphis, TN after being publically disgraced at a Buckee’s Truckstop restroom soliciting sex from an undercover cop three months ago. He is a founding member of the Reformed Christians for Christ, a conservative, pro-family and ex-gay advocacy group. In the spirit of being reborn, Senator Johnson invited reporters to marvel at his plans for a major remodeling of airport bathrooms.
By Cathy Schieffelin5 days ago in Humor
Comments (5)
Such vivid imagery in this. I gave up on perfection a long time ago. Now, I revel in imperfection.
A perfect poem about "the beast of perfection." This is when I want to keep close when I need the reminder.
Wow! We can be our own worst enemy or our own best friend. It’s amazing that such a simple choice can be so difficult. Loved the hopefulness and the use of desert and water as such powerful metaphors!
Very inspiring and hopeful poem. Nice one!
Wow! Love your style! 🤩