A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Saturday, January 11, 2020

your potential can fly

I don't understand

how potential
can be a bad thing.
Or....a thing. I mean
it's fine but whom shall
give a flying squat?

Do we owe ourselves to it?

Are we its slaves?

In whose eyes
would we be "better"
for fulfilling some atom's-breadth slice
of its infinite width, for them?

A "better person"? Whoever
that person is is worthless shit,
and so's their opinion, leveling persons
and stacking betters on top. Potential?

I do believe I have infinite potential.
Much of it
damn damn silly
after all, a lot of it
to do with which breakfast I'll choose
every day for the rest of my life, excepting

where I skip.

None of it, none of potential
could even conceivably be

a bad thing.

We owe it nothing.

We are being.

It is not.

It is not
even
actuality.

Only what we choose to do. Only
what we actually get up, lean forward
pick up steam and charge - and attain -
ACTUATE! - THAT

is the only part of potential
that ever shall or ever has mattered.

And it's easy.
The rest of it?

Kinda childish.
Good for telling people
"dreams, people."
"get some"
"don't give up"

"your potential
can fly"

Fft, well

go fly,
potential.

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