Knots by Tom Hale

I have some things to do, you see
Some things that have to get done
I can’t help you I can’t be me
Until these things are more than begun
I am not sad or planning heroic feats
It is just that there should be more I think
Things don’t seem quite complete
Especially moving closer to that unknowable brink

(chorus)
Godda godda cant cant, godda godda  cant
Godda godda cant cant
Gotta find a good job, feel good paying the bills
Can’t believe I have the needed skills
Put some words down for the long calling muse
Can’t when I’m afraid of my own reviews
Gotta find my true love, a soul to mate
Can’t pass through that self aware gate

We sweat & serve, advocate the goods
Hear “do for a living”, talk of “livelihoods”
Wake up in the morn crying “seize the day”
Then grind it away for sustenance pay
What a hell it is to sell, sell, sell
While scheming and screaming to the final bell
 
Wrote a poem once try to live by it still
Though grist is now rare for the minds mill
I remember when the call was strong and hard
Now I can’t see myself as anyone’s bard
It is the doing not the done I say
On slippery banks of melancholy bay

I had loves once, I drank them away
Now I live safely, dry and gray
No quick courage, no balm for the hurt
I think of Henry James’ beast in the dirt
Single time, simple time controls the most
While fear makes Cupid a ghost

(chorus)

So I go jumbled and jagged
A wobbly soft-centered mess
Knowing why I am so ragged
I hide nonetheless I confess
Enough whining and chagrin
I looked inside once to see
I live and thereby begin
To steer by WE while untying the knots of me