I hAvE A uSE fOr yoU


I have a use for you…

and if there was no use

would I still be here?

Or would I be in storage,

with the other bits and pieces of an optional life?

A decoration waiting for the right season,

waiting for my turn in line,

my number called.

Of what use can I be to myself, 

without a plan,

without an assignment?

The bargaining was made for me,

it’s history written in

manly chuckles and spit and a hearty handshake,

 while I waited,

 kept my usual place,

 my face to the wall.


I have not been the architect of my own building,

have only visited the basement,

peered out the murky flyspecked windows.

I have startled my second self

by started to wonder




what use I may have for myself.



About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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5 Responses to I hAvE A uSE fOr yoU

  1. A frightening question.

    • chimerapoet says:

      the hardest one. stepping forward is always frightening. backwards, no matter how bad, is at least the “known”. And some things have become normal when they really shouldn’t be….thanks for reading and commenting. always happy to see your name pop up 🙂

      • I have similar sorts of feelings. What purpose do I serve? I write but nobody reads what I write, I live in the countryside where I imagined I would be blissfully happy, but I’m just confronted with death every day that I can do nothing to prevent, and the old worries remain. It sometimes feels as though I’m adrift and when I finally cut loose, nobody will even notice.

      • chimerapoet says:

        I think you would be surprised how many lives you have touched with your writing. I know mine is one of them.

      • That’s a lovely thing to say. I would be surprised, and very humbled too.

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