To pick and **** at the creation of one’s mind
To disassemble and dissect what was so carefully made
To not know what you’re looking for or hoping to find
To take a chronicle or joke and slice through with a blade
With no intention of reassembly
Analysis on every word
Chords and notes ripped from a melody
Make logic seem absurd
The bane of creativity
is our tendency to over-think
Logic contributes negatively
Cherished moments seem to blink
A picture worth 1000 words
If at all worthy would deserve none
Break down the image on our own accords
And the image’s fulfilment -gone
Avid appreciation shown only by the speechless
A real artist’s only aspire
Is for their creation to make you breathless
Too worthy for your satire

A vast trench
happens to my right,
A grey scale area
that shadows by night,
The source of its presence
is not of its own,
And would likely dissipate
if 'twas left alone
Outclassed by its brother
that resides aloft,
The border is clear
but the resemblance is not,
Every shade on the spectrum
is there to behold,
And all of the sweet tales
you've ever been told

Nightfall beckons
crevices grow dark,
As the shadows thicken
left side plays part,
Dancing with darkness
only imagination would dare,
Playing with fire
Take reign of the flare

Grey matter grey stone
cold lifeless and smooth,
Must continue to function
Synapses through groove,
Storing all logic
threads memories with seams,
Holds nothing original
overthrown by dreams

The side that never sleeps
illumination glimmers with brilliancy,
Creativity runs rampant
developed no further than infancy,
Discouraged by elders
suppressed by the sage,
Who thinks it sensible
to keep this treasure encaged

Who’s wisdom we question
to feed right side with answers,
The unknowns parallel
prefer singers and dancers,
Who chant the melody
we'd rather discern,
Listen to your left brain
and see what you learn