Dear readers of this blog, I have let you down.
Frankly I've been a horrible person, not updating nearly enough
and this, my friends, is because life hasn't changed much.
It's the same old story everyday and I have yet to win the lottery,
stupid lottery. My life is a peaceful ocean in this eternal desert called the world,
everything's okey doke and nice and sweet.
Friday the thirteenth was entirely normal, not lucky, not horrible
and even though my mind is a maze I certainly would like to understand,
it's good, mostly good and this post is probably uninteresting so I'll put in
the wonderful poem I wrote today for fun.
(It's not that wonderful, but I like it and that's what matters)
Here it comes:


To write something important


For some reason I have this belief
that I'm important
and that my written words
have some meaning
(just a tiny bit)
that hasn't been told before

I write a poem in a few minutes time
and knows that if I sprinkle
the words fairy dust and love
as the secret ingredient to a poem
it will be safe

Maybe I'll put in a line
that goes something like
"he never watched her from afar, at least not intentionally,
but still she captures his attention, sweet and unassuming as she is"
Or maybe I'll flip the "Once upon a time"
and write "Once a time was upon us"
(still the same old story)

It's easy to write something
that somebody will like,
maybe more than just a few
To put your words at the right place,
describe the sun as it goes to sleep
(how can that turn in any other way than beautiful)

But I'm not important,
not really

When I write something that a few people will hate
and maybe one person
(and one only)
will love,
then I'm important

So for good ridance I'll put in the words
hate, anger and brutality
into this poem,
just for fun

Maybe you'll be the exception
***
I have an english day today, what will the next entry bring?