Do I just pretend to be open
am I a charlatan at heart
how sincere
how honest
when push
comes to shove
when the chips are down
what remains
that is true to my intent
Have I forsaken my promise
my desire to be me
openly faithful
truly chaste
a compassionate soul
struggling for honesty
and resolved to lead
into the Promised Land
My poems are
imagination’s creatures
but still
slave to whim
to make-believe
and the pre-determined end
does this condemn me to
reach a bargain
to fudge the truth
If so then
has that truth
become another lie
or does it just allow me
a latitude
a breadth of narrative
which covers up
the shallowness of my intent
I compromise surely
make accommodations to reality
inhibited by
thoughts of entitlement
feelings of worth
desire to please
to purchase credibility
a mercenary versifier
forever regretting
that this facade
must be negotiated
with my better judgement
not wanting to hurt
protecting decorum and
further weakening honesty
effectively
dissolving the truth
And yet
rather this
than face the rejection
that surely would follow
as always
the truth that
no – I am no wunderkind
not tomorrow’s success
nor Destiny’s child
just waiting
to be found
Roland's Ragbag 