There's a part of me that's always free
Deep inside the mind a hidden me
And trite and tried though true as this may be
Anywho with sense can clearly see

That growing up they say is hard to do
And sadly breaking up with older you
Will only lead the dim to misconstrue
The meaning of the flightless bird that flew

Opening cages works in stages
Say the sages over the ages
They've filled pages and countless pages
So what I tell you now is not outrageous:

No matter where you go and who you are
The self is neither near nor is it far.

I sat with my coffee and journal this morning and was feeling iambic. At first I was afraid my iron was low, but the hemogleebinglobbinglobin all the while and it was then I realized I was straining a terrible pun way beyond its tensile strength (you tensile! Fork you!)… but I digress… my puns are anemic but my verse was iambic, ish, and I danced the pentameter a tad but lost my rhythm on a step or two, but I’ve always liked progressive beats and I’m enamored by J Dilla and his spicy thyme…