No creation of merit can be created
without first digesting
the written-down genius
of those whose shoulders pad our feet.
The writer is a carnivorous beast
with an eye for talent
It would be a fool’s errand
to venture into a vacuum
in an attempt to find anything
of artistic merit.
The greatest accomplishments recorded
by a collective arthritic hand are merely flawed reflections
of the natural beauty in others’ magnificent work.
A writer puts into words
the common thoughts
of the people who won’t
elaborate upon their own condition.
So it lies with the beleaguered scribe
to illustrate in tomes both engaging
and mundane what the rest of the world
would gladly walk over.
There are no thanks for reminding
the world of it’s shortcomings,
but there is also no rebuke for shining light upon
the sullied truths for which no one wishes
to lay a claim. And therein lies
the writer’s world-
cared for by few and searched for
by those who have already recognized
the societal malaise dripping
all over the front pages of tomorrow’s papers.