Friday, May 28, 2010

2010 is no friend of mine

I like the ways these two talk about frustration and clipped wings and fruitlessness.

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over--

like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

--Langston Hughes

And now it's so hard to have faith in anything,
especially your next bold move,
or the next thing you're gonna need to prove to yourself.

You want to track each trickle back to its source
and then scream up the faucet 'til your face is hoarse
cuz you're surrounded by a world's worth
of things you just can't excuse,
but you've got the hard cough of a chain smoker,
and you're at the arctic circle playing strip poker,
and it's getting colder and colder
every time you lose.

So go ahead;
make your next bold move.
Tell us what's the next thing
you're gonna need to prove to yourself.

--Ani Difranco

1 comment:

hip hip gin gin said...

I really like the Langston Hughes. Unfortunately it speaks to me today. Can't believe 2010 is almost half way through.