Living life to aluminate this hidden mask
Is no great task
If you lost all feelings to a bitter past
My minds racing directionless and fast
Outcast
The words enters my soul
Cutting my Humanity, so cold
My heart embedded in a cast
From all the places it’s broken
Living this continued farce
The one I wear with hated pride
The one I continue to brokenly hide
I confide,
These words to you
So please don’t deny
You feel exactly the same
With your damaged pride
Living in a censored dark
I now embark,
To win this war
Amongst all art

This poetry you are reading,
Came to me one evening.
This is just more than a poem,
It's a revolutionary anthem.

This poetry was sent from the deep
Via spoken words in my sleep.
This poetry was baked in the furnace
It's elusive, nobody will ever trace.

This poetry is so hot, it'll burn you
And probably shock you.
Yet it has the propensity to uplift,
So it's not something to play with.

This poetry will slowly creep
From the sole of your feet,
To the crown of your head.
This poetry is a didactic bread.

This poetry is a glitch
Yet it was sent to teach.
It will grasp your attention,
and stretch your imagination.

This poetry is a proclamation
Of our collective emancipation
From total mental slavery.
This poem bears the scars of bravery.

This work is the embodiment of artistry
And the blurry lines and meters of poetry.
It's a poem, it's music and it's a painting.
This poetry is a testament of my calling.

#IBpoetry© #Bassapoet
         <<5.7.2019>>

dings and whistles from the slot alert him escape -
sit before my image enter its wild wolf canyon escape

winding road in lofty forest landscape
beckon her - leave him for my green escape

triple x signs promise writhing bodies
heavy breathing and dark dank escape

the flute lay still of the silent table sparkling
sweet melodic memories of fingered escape

the frothy surging surf traces the seam of the sea -
bathe in my *****, wrap your self in my fluid escape

locked door soft light from below no sounds
inside creative energy sparks a poetic escape

on the placid lake he casts his hopes
awaits the tug - he and his prey escape

she stands eyes closed, smiling face turned upward
feels the breeze in her hair thanks God for this sweet escape

he runs in the field of goldenrod tears stream
and he screams a desperate entreaty for escape

the sylvan spirits flown from the mountain trees
into the green glen whisper as angels - escape!

I refuse to let my artistry
be ignored,
broken, beaten,
bruised, or forgotten.
These words hold my truth,
deeper than any flagship
can carry.

Had life’s purpose been to dream
I would’ve been the queen

But ‘stead I am mere begger
melting in sun’s sweet beam

I see fine art when I look in your eyes,
And your voice sings in perfect melody.
E’en the thought of you I romanticize,
I read fairy tales in the you I see.

Your eyes a subtle pleasing pair in rhyme,
All history’s beauty found in your smile,
Your touch beats my heart in meter and time,
Your moves transcend every poetic style.

All of the poems written about you,
Inadequately composed by myself,
Are merely shadows of art that is true.
You are the words of a poem yourself.