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Bukowski told me not to do it
if it doesn’t come bursting out of me,
in spite of everything

if I have to wait for it
to roar out of me, he told me
wait patiently

but I say patience 
is just passion tamed
I want mine feral, and raw
and unbroken

for we are all little children
each born with a song on our hearts
if not our lips

we walk the ocean’s shore
seeking that one perfect shell
the one waiting 
just for us

don’t stop, don’t you dare
look, and look, and look some more
until you find the one
that smiles back at you

then you’ll know
because then the song will come
oh, it will come

bursting, or bubbling
flowing, or falling
no matter, none at all
it’s your song

then She will smile

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