Uncle Bob's Words

Words, poetry, stuff like that

I wanted a lot

I wanted a lot, back in the day.

Ultimately, all I got was dreck.

Only that which I gave, gave worth.

What I believed, what I did.

All my art, all my knowledge, held true.


Okay.  Focus.  Let’s assume god only

Came to be in the perfervid dreams

Of men: utterly sincere, and bat-shit crazy,

Then shaped into a true religion

By a man whose vision was far from fevered.


Back away from the god-is-business meme.

Show by your actions that you’re worthy.

Let the dead past be and motor on.

Believe in your art, not some pious prince

Who says he’ll save you.  He can’t.  You can.

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