THE TIME IS NOW

my friend always wanted to be a writer
he became a translator
working the language of the successful practitioners
into his own.

so long hard hours
with the dream
getting further
and further out of
reach,
his wife going
mad:

“you’re always
typing!”

a killing unhappiness
never knowing
what you might have
been.

Charles Bukowski
From: each man’s hell is different
BONE PALACE BALLET
~
Dedicate this poem to: Anyone who has ever given up their aspirations… anyone who has ever felt trapped by obligations put on them by choices… bad choices… marriages… careers… fear of being alone… fear of leaving the security of a hated job… hunched over a bar stool wishing he had stuck out his thumb a long time ago… she wishes she had gone to grad school… they want to just go… go somewhere… escape the inevitable… chains forged by fear and with hope disintegrated by time… these are the ones called.

Not what I might have been… but what I might be… pull it out from within… a silver thread of hope. The time is now.

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