ANDY R.
Bluelighter
A child looks at the crayons full of wonder and bliss
And considers his options to be limitless.
The youth sits at a piano and looks at the keys
And dreams of the infinite possibilities.
A man walks through this world full of so many roads
And wonders which way is the best way to go.
But now sits an old man with a tear in his eye,
And he says with despair as he looks to the sky,
“I was given two hands for some service to lend.”
“I was given two eyes to see beauty with no end.”
Then he says to the wind and to no one at all,
“How I’ve wasted it all. How I’ve wasted it all.”
“For now I can see what before I could not.”
“I have spent all my meritless life in this spot.”
“I’ve spent all of my life trying to choose the right path.”
This he said to himself and he started to laugh.
Yes he laughed to himself at the same time he cried.
Then both laughing and crying he laid down and died.
I was not under the influence when I wrote this poem, but the inspiration came to me while I was in my apartment one night after eating some shrooms and I could not relax or enjoy myself because every activity that I could have chosen would have been intensely interesting and I couldn't make up my mind so I was paralyzed by the decision. I was then overwhelmed by the desire to create something so I got some colored pencils and a notebook, but once again I could not decide what to draw. It was not a lack of ideas that caused the problem, but rather an overabundance of ideas that rendered me quite useless and unproductive for the evening.
And considers his options to be limitless.
The youth sits at a piano and looks at the keys
And dreams of the infinite possibilities.
A man walks through this world full of so many roads
And wonders which way is the best way to go.
But now sits an old man with a tear in his eye,
And he says with despair as he looks to the sky,
“I was given two hands for some service to lend.”
“I was given two eyes to see beauty with no end.”
Then he says to the wind and to no one at all,
“How I’ve wasted it all. How I’ve wasted it all.”
“For now I can see what before I could not.”
“I have spent all my meritless life in this spot.”
“I’ve spent all of my life trying to choose the right path.”
This he said to himself and he started to laugh.
Yes he laughed to himself at the same time he cried.
Then both laughing and crying he laid down and died.
I was not under the influence when I wrote this poem, but the inspiration came to me while I was in my apartment one night after eating some shrooms and I could not relax or enjoy myself because every activity that I could have chosen would have been intensely interesting and I couldn't make up my mind so I was paralyzed by the decision. I was then overwhelmed by the desire to create something so I got some colored pencils and a notebook, but once again I could not decide what to draw. It was not a lack of ideas that caused the problem, but rather an overabundance of ideas that rendered me quite useless and unproductive for the evening.
