I've tried to give up poetry,
As if it's some addiction.
Sometimes I feel like an addict.
Do you ever feel like that, you poets?
Do you get my depiction?
Addicted to the pen,
Confined to your mind--your paddock.
I feel like a junkie who's on it again,
Writing another poem to a friend,
For others to use it as I pretend.
I'm addicted to the waves,
As I'm tossed and blown about--their slave.
They pull me asunder.
Oh Lord, take me under.
Blow my cover.
Let me not be another fanatic on dope.
That doesn't mean I smoke;
I'm talking about words with emotion,
But sometimes I get lost in this ocean.
Compulsive to smoking,
I'm writing this, hoping,
That as my pen is the lighter
And my cigarette is the page,
I can light your soul on fire,
While keeping the addict in his cage.
May your demons choke on the brume
By the words that are the smoke you consume.