Monday, February 13, 2012

Funk City

Life is one disappointing landlord.
She makes promises
she doesn't deliver.
The picture window cracked.
The roof leaked.
The drains backed up.
Weeds everywhere.
No one is home.

No contract.
No promises made.
No guarantees.
Hopes and dreams?
Fiction and wannabe.
Wishful thinking.

Overboard expectaions.
And the funk goes on.

   So, in case you were wondering, I wrote that last night.  It was Sunday after a disappointing and funk filled weekend (in which I pretended to be upbeat and cheerful).  Made it through a Monday and the sun kinda came out this afternoon - that makes a big difference after a cold, cloudy wet weekend.  What can I say?  Funks happen.  I can write about them.  Funny thing is, the paintings I am working on?  They, I think,  are going to bring a balance to that funk.  I say "I think" because I never really know where they are going to go -- but I have ideas.  Stay tuned.


  1. I like to think that I can turn on a funk and shout it down. "DO NOT FUNK WITH ME!"

  2. Totally tuned. (And hoping for your de-funkification.)

    1. De-funkification might really be in play this next weekend - the district has a four day weekend. I need to catch up on sleep. That might help.

  3. Loved the poem and can relate. Like Mark, I sometimes personify my Funk and tell it to get lost, although not that politely.
    Did you see the reply posted to another blogger who asked for deliverance from her funk?

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