SCRAPING BOTTOM

SCRAPING BOTTOM

Tired of scraping bottom, tired of burnt out fuses,
Tired of ancient grudges, and tired of lame excuses.

Tired of scraping bottom, the barnacles on the ocean floor.
The age old worn out search, the tireless mantra of more.

Tired of scraping bottom, tired of the jaded and cynical
Ready to set my wings afire, and fly to the highest pinnacle.

To the mountains where the gods do frolic, I will don my traveling clothes.
Tired of feeling melancholic, about the paths I chose.

Tired of scraping bottom, it is time to choose again.
Not sure where I’m headed, but it isn’t where I’ve been.

All I know for sure is, I am never quite alone,
In it just to win, no longer sink or swim
There are no more sad songs, no more haunting hymns,
No more sordid secret sins for which I must atone.

Tired of scraping bottom, my wings torn asunder,
For too long a time you have stolen my thunder.
Tired of scraping bottom, accepting scraps from the table.
Ever the tortoise, never the hare, someday I will make it there,
Star of my own sweet melodious fable.

Tired of scraping bottom when the top is what I crave.
No time left for navel gazing, no more time to scrimp and save.
Time for action, to be bold and to be brave.
Time to lose the fear and dive into Fortune’s loving hands,
Time to sail my boat away from the comfort of dry land,
Into the future, beyond the stars, un-tethered by fortune and its shifting sand.

Tired of scraping bottom, getting snagged on coral reefs.
Sick to death of outworn fashion and outdated beliefs.
Tired of scraping bottom, of someone else’s plan,
Living a languid useless lie is more than I can stand.

Tired of scraping bottom, the barnacles on the ocean floor,
Pitfalls of a pitiful past, the tiresome mantra of more.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED