It's not the fear that brings
about the images the painter
paints.
The words the writer writes.
The shapes the sculptor
sculpts.
Or the sounds the
musician brings.

It's the knowledge that there is more
than the trash filled gutters.
The windowless bars and
loveless street girls.
The foreign commerce you are
expected to buy and the life
you've been trained to sink
yourself  into while still dreaming
of oh so much more.

Some gifts shine and cast rainbows
in the light and some gifts expose the
darkness we all know is there but still
refuse to see.

The masses look to make a Hero
out of the artist.
They set prices on the works
and attempt to understand the
view.

This craft here comes in waves.
All there is to do is
try to keep up with the demands
of this ongoing battle
for time.

Time to sacrifice more
to the machine.
Less time for all the bad things.
More time for the gift.

My need to shy away from
the crowds in order to
create hand woven magic in the
dark.
The need to challenge Platos
view.
The need to feel the numbing
cold of Dantes Hell.
The need to live out my days
in Bukowskis harsh vision
of the world.

The gears of their clocks
keep grinding.
Grinding like a junk yard tweekers
teeth.

My remaining pages remain
unfilled and the sun has already
set on my tomorrow.

1465

Before you thought of Spring
Except as a Surmise
You see—God bless his suddenness—
A Fellow in the Skies
Of independent Hues
A little weather worn
Inspiriting habiliments
Of Indigo and Brown—
With specimens of Song
As if for you to choose—
Discretion in the interval
With gay delays he goes
To some superior Tree
Without a single Leaf
And shouts for joy to Nobody
But his seraphic self—

Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste,
I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday;
I dare not move my dim eyes any way,
Despair behind, and death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feebled flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it t'wards hell doth weigh.
Only thou art above, and when towards thee
By thy leave I can look, I rise again;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one hour I can myself sustain;
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art,
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.

Now do our eyes behold
The tidings which were told:
Twin fallen kings, twin perished hopes to mourn,
The slayer, the slain,
The entangled doom forlorn
And ruinous end of twain.
Say, is not sorrow, is not sorrow's sum
On home and hearthstone come?
Oh, waft with sighs the sail from shore,
Oh, smite the *****, cadencing the oar
That rows beyond the rueful stream for aye
To the far strand,
The ship of souls, the dark,
The unreturning bark
Whereon light never falls nor foot of Day,
Even to the bourne of all, to the unbeholden land.

She creeps over my pillow like a
Black cat over a field mouse.

She steals my breathe as if she
Were a masked theif.

She makes me scream like a
Mother in labor.

She sends me night terrors as if she
Is a shattered mirror in my mind.

She pulls at my droopy eyes like a
Hand of terror in the darkness.

She frightens me as if she
Is certain the painful nights will never end.

She flees when the light arises like a
Prisoner escaping their cell.

She is a horrible dream that keeps
Occurring.

Ripping the pages away from my brain
And out of eyesight
I focus in on the pain
Its waves are soothing
They wipe away the ink stains leaving a clean slate

I DO NOT focus on the memories of every single word
Only the important ones that seldomly occured
Love
Of course
Without which where would I be?
Weak and weary watching these waves wash over me.

But these words are just characters
They die off often and can be replaced
But the memories they brought with them,
The ones of your face...

Are gone.

But your love remained.

The poet inside of me,
wants to believe,
he could love me.

For when he whispered in my ear,
I couldn't dare stop the tug of my lips.

But, I had to remind myself
he's just a friend.

I may think, write, explore
yet, love for me
is nothing my pen or paper,
can create.