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Michael Stefan Feb 2020
A griffon fights leviathan upon my left forearm
As phoenix rises underneath, regal rebirth from the war

Clouds adorn my bicep
Created as a place to play
For curious birds drawn out of bones;
Symbols of life's pain

A charm is etched into my chest
To ward away the wickedness,
That surrounds me on my path

And cheaply done tribal
on my right shoulder,
A remnant to teenage aftermath

A mural of light and dark is juxtaposed
From left to right upon my back
Serves me as a guiding light
And reminds me of my proper track

Art is created of many forms
And each of their beauties is akin
I am living cautionary tale
And a gorgeous canvas made of skin
Every scar tells a story, every tattoo is a piece, and we are all artwork.  Even if tattoos aren't your style, keep creating art of all kinds.  And take a minute to think about what each person's art means to them.  Always support your brethren artists.
Mark Wanless Jun 2016
as a dead bird drops i fall into a silent place
with echoes upon echoes of mind moving itself
and i scream with the effort to speak of it
to retrieve a speck of the chill fire
to recognize and pronounce it a word
or shape of word      or confusion of word
to bear it into a semblance
NeroameeAlucard Dec 2015
Shout out to the outcasts
Your individuality will outlast
Shout out to the mediocre ones
You have talent but you don't feel good enough
Stay with it love, develop your craft and grow into the best
Here's to the underdogs,
The ones who feel they don't belong,
And for so long have been hiding away and starting to decay,
Don't settle for the nutshell and say it's just as well,
Rise higher than the tree wild and free,
They don't know who you really are don't let them take it too far,
A collaborative effort with my amigo Oreos
ryn Jan 2015
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...
Dedicated to all of you...

If you're reading this...
This is for you...

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