Day 1 : Inspiration

They say anything can inspire poetry. 

So I tried to get inspired. 

.

I looked for meaning in psychedelic art

that made my eyes and thoughts sting. 

Strained to find the melody in a sound 

that my ears insisted was a noisy screech. 

I examined the world through the eyes of an alien,

to end up wondering about the politics in his.

I tried this, and that and the other.

Even tried to compose in the shower. 

.

But inspiration and poetry both eluded me. 

.

Then, as I sat dejected and glum,

finding symbolism in the setting sun,

my baby asked me if I knew 

what a human eyeball smells like. 

And whether Oreos could grow on trees. 

When I had finished laughing 

– and having my eyes throughly sniffed –

I didn’t mind so much that psychedelia couldn’t inspire me. 

.

It will take some work to achieve derangement,

to step out of the box and look in.

Until then, maybe I’ll find inspiration

in a child’s unfiltered curiosity.

As they say, anything can inspire poetry.