Zaphod-Beeblebrox58

I write for my own enjoyment. Period.

Before I post something here, I say to myself "well, I like it" then hit the SUBMIT button.

If other people like or are touched by something that I wrote, well, it is the most amazing high that I have or ever will experience.  It is amazing to me when I get a comment like "this line here....says this to me...." and it was not my intention to say anything like that.  I am always amazed by perspectives.  Diamonds change colors when you look at them from different angles.

But I'm a realist.  I teach English to 15 year olds and watch them glaze over in inattention as I speak about my passion.  But at the same time, they dance and get excited when a rapper repeats " mudder F---ing n----r" for 20 minutes.  It is poetry, after all, isn't it?  The verbal equal of a photo of a crucifix submerged in urine?

I am a realist.  I go to Barnes and Noble or Books a Million or any other bookstore and see 100 yards of shelf space dedicated to fashion magazines, Civil War magazines, self help books, dozens of Kharm Sutras, teen zombie and vampires, sections on pop stars like "Lady Gaga" (as if her words will be studied though the ages)...tons and tons of crap.  But only 2 feet of shelf space for poetry.

No I don't buy much either, I'm a realist, just seems a lot of modern poetry is uninteresting.

Perhaps I'm a snob...perhaps I'm not smart enough to understand...damn if I know.

But still I write.  Everytime I write, I'm thinking "this is the last time...I have nothing else to write".

But still I write.  I look back on some of the things that I've written and say "this is crap" or "man, I like that"...it's like someone else wrote it.

I've asked friends, real writers, to come here and read.  I ask for their real opinion.  What ever anyone says, I'll still write.  But I'd like to know "Is there anything here that is publishable?"  

But I am, after all, a realist who writes.  Things are what they are, right?  Please read my stuff (I always hate to call them "poems"...realist) and tell me what you think.  You can't hurt me.

Thanks

...when we meet again
introduced as friends
please don't let on
that you knew me when...

Tous les mondes!!!!

I have received two llamas.

Is this good or bad?

Should I thank these folks?

I've noticed that there is a strange thing about internet friends.

You meet them, feel a connection with someone that you would never meet from the other side of the world, and develop true and honest feelings...a kinship...with them.  It is beautiful, it is honorable, it is as real as anything else.

But then life happens.  You get busy with stuff and that stuff pushes your art to the side and you visit places like DA less and less, spend less time, see your friends less.

Until, one day, you realize that it has been a long time since you've been here...and less becomes even less.

I suppose that this is like a comfortable coffee shop where you hang out but you eventually leave.  You revisit from time to time to see your friends but they aren't always there either since they, just like you, have their lives as well.

I will be back from time to time, we will meet again, and I will love you as I always have.