The rest is up to you

Silent struggles as I

am juggling random words

like colorful oranges above my head.

Bubbly and Bright but very heavy

those words appear just out of reach.

Stepping sideways, as it all comes crashing down-

strangling sentences into shorten

poetic phrases

a slice

into an orange peel

gives way

into spurts of orange juice-spraying all over the sidewalk

in my minds fresh eye

if only I

could walk the walk

and

talk the talk-

but I am a mere court jester

juggling words out of a silent mute place.

Sometimes out of thin air,

a poem just appears.

In other cases, it clearly does not.

The rest is up to you.

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