Anthony Bourdain RIP

I USED TO BE A POET

I used to be a poet
Way back in the day
Long before the sleek
Looking machinery
That manufactures words
At the speed of light
Was even dreamt of

I used to be a poet
When words were measured
Carefully and thoughtfully
When love and passion
Dripped from every one
Like honey from some
Overachieving beehive

I used to be a poet
When I could make
Subconscious thoughts
Churn and bubble
A witches cauldron
Of fear and anger
Of anxiety and longing
For everything from justice
To a good old fashioned fuck

I used to be a poet
When everything was cool
And everyone could find
The deeper meaning
When inflections were like chords
That no one had played before
And they were so rich
And strange and full of the unknown

I used to be a poet
When my mind was free to wander
And I was always invited to
Tag along, taking notes
And shaping them into
Little anthems to whatever
Was going on, going strong
Going right, going wrong
Going, going, gone

I used to be poet
But nowadays
I have to reach way back
To find those things
That came so easily
Those thoughts that would drift
On the tide of all that I
Was so connected to
When I used to be a poet