a little discomfort.

I keep doing this really weird thing where I call myself a poet. I’m comfortable with saying writer now, after several years, but for some reason poet is just a whole ‘nother strange jumping out of my mouth often without thinking. Not to my knowledge, it’s become this truth. Weird! Okay, I write poems- have for a while. But it’s a whole ‘nother thing calling myself a poet. Not sure why it’s different from writer. Maybe there’s a certain cockiness I worry that comes with it. I’m afraid of the stigma, but more than that when I say this people will attach certain attributes and accountabilities to me… ugh. Cause I’m going through this phase right now for uh… so, the last 20 years of my life.. well maybe more like ten, where I’m always majority writing “ooh boy” or “ugh boy/man” poems. I’m fully aware of it. That shit is hella wack to me sometimes. I get mad at myself for it, challenge myself to do different every once and while but, it’s always in there somehow. And I don’t know what that means. But what I’m saying is that, I’m not writing the revolution. Not really even a love revolution, makes me feel guilty. Like when I say poet, I should mean I’m changing lives or something, like I should be inspiring revolt, helping to fix something. Like it’s not sufficient that right now the something is just myself, and whoever else can relate. Weird, but I’m pretty comfortable with that. It’s always been me first, the only time I really let I be, completely and freely. It’s mine, these couple of words, and arrangements, and confessions, and maybes and an if, and fantastics of emotion in instants so true and so temporary, unless they’re lasting and I mean them for whiles, good ones, sometimes. But when I write I release, and I clear and that’s all it ever is, and trying to do more is contrived and edits should only be to tell the truth better. Someday I’m sure I will write things, big things, international things, human hunger things, race things, gender things, less subversive things… mmhm, sure, but I’m not there yet. And I don’t always know what I’m doing. Who really knows what I’m writing, and who I may be touching. Because I’m thinking if what I write gets me or you through a certain part of the day I’m doing something right. I should only write what I know (and what I won’t allow myself to know, deep down) anyway, right?