How monumental it will be
When humanity realizes
That what is now
Won’t forever be.

A beat
A rhythm
A melody
Melds into the harmony.
Bass vibrates
Into my soul.
Music.

It’s such a shame
That crap rappers
And social media
Had to ruin it.

Beauty.
Do you know what that is?
I think not.
I thought I knew it too.
But beauty is not objective.
It is not attractive.
Beauty is realness.
Beauty is finding joy
And light too
Within the dark curtain
Of night.

Flowers in a field
They reach and grab for the sun
Daisies and daffodils
Roses and carnations
Poppies and sunflowers
Reach for the stars
Reach for the sun.

If creativity was a pond,
It would have grown stagnant by now.
The slippery moss of logic
Would have plagued the cattail of imagination
And the pond would grow murky and muddy.

Thankfully,
Creativity is like a river
Always full of life.
Things come and go,
Things are created there.
Moving water.
Never growing stagnant.

You cannot tie this one down.
No way, no how.
You clip my wings
I’ll fly anyway.
I really don’t care if I fall.
I’ll try anyway.
Dear lord, I’ll try.

Tell me when to sit
Stop
Learn
Speak.

No
Don’t tell me what to do
Only I tell myself what to do.

Yet you scream
Within the large depth of my ear canal
“LISTEN TO ME”
“YOU ARE WRONG”

But no.
I am right.
Don’t tell me what to do.
You can shout my eardrums ******,
But your foul filth
Will never make it to my mind.