Among many of my writings, I write poems. Not necessarily because I consider myself a poet (I have too much respect for poets to do so...) but because it's a way I find myself dealing with ceratin types of anxieties. As a creative, I appreciate and need chaos to function and allow my imagination to flow... But much of being productive is also understanding how to organize and store this chaos so no part of the real juice is lost. Not always easy to find the balance between the two; this poem, which I wrote a while back, perfectly illustrates the frustration I feel between them.
PLAYTIME
my head is bouncing with ideas
all too fast to catch, all too easy to play
I can't sleep, my thoughts want to play
all too fast to catch, all too easy to play
I can't sleep, my thoughts want to play
mysteriously, the next one appears
creativity flows in me like insanity,
heaven and hell at once
without an answer to show.
how to capture all of this?
how to organize all of me?
how to be the seeker and the keeper?
how to stay here and look into the future?
this emptiness is my home,
the perfect idea will arrive,
trusting my gut, my pure madness,
I know I will have the answer soon.
how can I trust what I don't have?
why can't I stop to preserve the now?
whatever you call me, I will embrace it,
I am all of that and probably more,
above definitions and open to interpretation
I'm the chaos where I belong.