We are the Creators creating creations through creativity...

Creativity—
The force to construct or obliterate,
Yet always with the beauty of our cursed race, humanity
So cast down among the kingdom of animals
For our groundbreaking minds and fierce vision

Still in the brink in my time due
What have I done so distinct, so new
Remarkable to both praise and criticism
Invaluable to the point of ridiculous attraction

I’ve unearthed nothing!
So little in wide view,
I cannot be among the masters, the innovative, or true

In the (so unlikely to be irrelevant)
Notion where it’s viable
Would it matter in my venue?
I’d notice no sooner than a patrician,

How desperate I am,
To measure beyond measures
Unveil the rare, cherished,
Re-create the treasures

That in all my disheartenment
What would I have seen?
No sooner any creativity
In all of me.

For who can say life is not but a dream.
When you sleep does your mind often know that you're not awake?
Something that your brain can't distinguish between,
is it reality or dreamlike serene?

For who can say that death is not but a dream.
Free'd from mortal coil, the body may wither but the mind may transcend separated from the body. Time is only conceptualized and regimented. Time is of course intangible. There has only ever been one time, the now everything is happening on one scale, at one time, always.

Empty, like all living beings. composed of nothing.
All that lie behind those thin human shells, and interact as if aesthetics are taken for granted. However, all is perceived and compiled of atoms and molecules, particles. Nothing lies truly there except for perception, look aside of the boundaries and reevaluate the conception.

Living, stagnant cogs of the world with fear of rejection.
Are you a dreamer? there isn't too many of us around anymore.
Life, is a waking dream and you walk down its path, but must challenge it and not give in, therefore life is a walking exam.
Aristotle spoke of knowing something because he knows he knew nothing. I know nothing, we all know nothing, knowledge is found therein.

Faking your way through everything, who's going to call who's bluff. Invisible boundaries, ones greatest enemy must surely be themselves,
for instance all those living their lives painting imaginary walls to lock their dreams in. Told something that isn't just on a daily basis by media no you shouldn't  and no you can't. Hypnosis of the masses, bow down to the monopoly and put priority to the meaningless monetary.

Living lives chained to sheets of paper, always chasing, never ever asking why? do you need that, but will you die? Confused and lost sight of the real. pursuit of Happiness, Knowledge, Creativity, Love, Possibilities of above.

Break out the invisible shackles, leap out from under the internal prison and run, never stop till you reach the top of the mountain and scream. We are free and the time is now, there has never been a greater time to be alive. The world is our oyster lets soar and leap to the pinnacle of our greatness.

We can all achieve our potential, your life on a canvas, paint your masterpiece.

who are you,
this creature with my face and eyes,
small and fleet running rampant here?
what quest brings you
to devour my joy or chase away my ease
ever cackling as you go, flinging scorn and disdain?
come, troubler of spirits
rest here on my lap and tell me what fuels your frenzy
how comes your recent troubled flight?
sit with me
let us wait together for the rain
and
waterfalls often bring sprites in drops of tears and sweet dew
my familiar.

Why do you remain
There
A brush against me
Radiating
Passion inside my senses
Leaving
Me longing for more?

Your voice sang today
Mournful
Lyrics of loss and hope
Ascending
...Falling
Tones of fluttering invitation
Kissing
Gently within my moments

Haunting.

On a derelict island lived a solitary youth,
A desolate prisoner of his own- the unfathomable truth.
Enclosed by the fence which his own hands had built.
All day he lay, still as a rock, eyes fixed on the silt.

From his enclosure, the same sorry shells he would collect everyday.
And when he put them together, they never failed to look the same way.
The job he once loved was now monotonous and mundane,
No longer did people want to see his shells- so ordinary and plain.

One warm day, a shell so unlike the others his fence did hit,
Fascinated, he took down a piece of his fence with a new-found grit,
Joyously, he discovered a whole wide world of many a beauteous shell,
Vivacity enveloped him and godspeed, he took down the rest of his fence as well.

But the island, in reality, was his isolated mind,
The fence, the enclosure for his mind, around the ‘island’ was aligned.
The shells stood for thoughts, words and the inspiration he could attain.
As the writer opened up his mind, he fell in love with words again.

They always told me of my pneuma,
This creative spirit,
Capable of conquering nations or liberating the unjustly incarcerated
Unearthing fabled, folkloric myths,
With all the pummels I’d expect a brain cyst—
Still, he trudges on,
Like a scapegoat in its farcical, ineffable glee—
Why are you telling me
To manufacture and market my life
Like an indulgent, indulged on swine
Conforming to the convention,
Supporting units of straight edges

What in this straight-edged maelstrom
Can help the creative pneuma
To thrive in a place so confining and restricting
And detrimental to discoveries, breakthroughs,
Spiritual sustenance?

so you must be another
reader
just about to pass this poem
well, you shouldn't

think about this
to yourself
while i explain
this to you

you, my friend,
are a human being
with a collection
of assorted thoughts

creativity blooms
from your mind
im sure you probably write
some good poetry too

here,you are
reading this poem
probably thinking
that this isnt all that good

but my dear,
you are not just creativity,
you are your experiences
that have occurred in the past
and will occur in the future
you are your relationships
whether they are true love
or heartbreak
you are every poem,
you have ever read
every feeling you have ever
felt
you are your thoughts
your words.
yourself.

you are not your body.
you are made of far bigger than that.
you are your soul

now that i have told
you this
do not
lose touch of who you are

every smile,
every hug,
every kiss,
should be you

every word
every sentence
every laugh
should feel so important

it should represent love.

and love should be you.

(b.d.s.)