a poem

Morning Coffee
I feel like an ink drawing of myself
on a wall in the coffeeshop,
with dead rock stars, their downcast eyes, confident hands;
a catastrophe lurking somewhere behind silent contempt,
remembering only vaguely,
and no longer human, icons no more.
Ink lines scratched and tracing
what was once but is no more real than their drawn expression.
I am alive, framed and hanging over the discussions of housewives
on a Sunday morning,
long-haired and searching,
pushing their way through the glass.
No one here gets out, at all.

I'm Not Clever

Hey, come on in! Take a seat on the barstool, pal. How about a cold one? Let me serve you up a special draught. Yes, you can throw your shells on the floor.
Well, today, on a whim, I decided that I would open up this place and so far everyone here knows my name. I've never given much thought to blogging, but lately it occurred to me that it could be a great outlet for some interesting (and not so interesting) thoughts and observations.
I've read some of David Ives' great blog where he's become quite an able theologian. It's certainly thought provoking, informative and instructive, although I don't share my friends' love for bad movies. I've been moved and occasionally shocked on Bill Voorhies' The White Whale blog, reading his posts on being a firefighter as well as his discourses on music and stuff. And The Blog of Doob has a great argument for The Monkees induction into the Rock Hall of Fame - he's right, you know. Among other things. I'm sure there will eventually be links to those blogs here.
Honestly, though, I haven't read a lot of blogs. But one thing I've noticed is that the people who write them, at least the ones I've read, are very good writers and are rather clever how they choose their topics and how they write them.
Me, I'm not clever. I'm generally not very original either. I try, but I'm just not. I am a decent writer. And I have some interesting thoughts on stuff. I generally write from the heart. I don't use a lot of irony, sarcasm or cynicism. I think one thing that makes a good writer is being sincere. I could try to come up with clever ways of looking at things, but it's probably going to come across as ingenuine. I can't cover it up.
And I'm not being ironic here. I have a lot of respect for and enjoy reading things by people who can write like that. For example, when I read Bill V.'s blog, I usually end up making that face that Austin Powers makes when he sees the film clip of man landing on the moon. (well, go back and watch the movie then.) He just blows me away sometimes cos' it's like, 'how the hell did he come up with that?" He's clever. He comes out of nowhere and slaps you up side the head with stuff like that. It's cool. But how can I compete with that? Or with the others? Well I can't.
But hopefully I can add something of some small value, something of minor interest, to what's out there in the blog world (notice I didn't say blogosphere?) about a number of relevant, or irrelevant, topics.
It'll be fun, anyway. But it's not likely to be clever.