I have my doubts.
I probably have some of yours;
So give me just a moment
While I impregnate this pause.
If you note some correspondence
Between my and your despondence
Maybe our mutual abscondence
Can make peace among these wars.
I have self-doubts;
I doubt my fears are as logical
As I’d like them to be.
I doubt if I really tried
I could not learn to ride a bike
Before it learned to ride me.
I doubt if I lied I could hide my deception
Sufficiently to avoid your detection.
I doubt I’ve the courage
Of all of my convictions;
I doubt I can maintain smooth-talk
In the face of friction.
I doubt my diction’s as dictionaryesque
As it should be:
My definitions put to the test
Show there could be
Room for improvement;
I am not much for movement:
I doubt even if proven wrong I would be.
I sometimes whisper
When I ought to be screaming.
I sometimes dither
When I ought to be scheming.
Sometimes when I ought to
Just speak, I shout
But these are not foremost
Among my doubts.
I doubt there’s a God,
Although, I don’t know;
And I feel the burden of proof
Lies with me to convince myself
What I ought to believe,
Not with you to show me
On what basis lies your truth.
I doubt everyone’s definitions
Of good and evil are the same.
I doubt anyone dares define them
Definitively, distinctively for infinity,
For fear of footing the blame.
I doubt anyone cares if they do or do not
Do it in my name.
I doubt my name – Alexander Velky.
I doubt if you don’t understand it
Any amount of explaining will help me
Sell it to you. If I tell it to you true,
And don’t excuse myself,
I might just lose myself –
Or worse, confuse myself
With somebody else.
Tell me, would that be healthy?
Besides, I doubt there’s much in a name at all.
I doubt that the future can be written on a wall.
I doubt that pumpkin carriage will get me to the ball;
If it does I doubt that if I dance I will not trip and fall.
And then I doubt you will come out if I happen to call.
I doubt that you’d believe me if I said “I’m not a cynic”
But you ought to be able to see that with me
It’s not what’s in it but what’s not in it,
And what’s not in it is an answer
So I have to keep questing;
For unanswered questions
I’ll keep putting my best in.
I’m a clinical believer
In the right to be wrong;
It’s the philosophy I have so far
Maintained all along
And it’s got me this far,
It’s what it’s all been about:
I’ve built a life of struggle, strife and striving
To defeat my doubt;
But I have my doubt to thank
For all that I hold dear in this world:
Every obstacle I’ve overcome,
And every sail unfurled;
Every target I hit,
And every goal that I score;
Every fact that I have factored,
Every thousandth metaphor;
Every word absurd that somehow seems
To help me make some sense
Of the planet I inhabit;
Each attack and each defence;
My assertions, my aspersions –
Circumlocution or clout;
It’s all down to dedication
And my doubt,
Mistaken for art or rubbish