(My) Craft or Crap
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages,
But for the common wages
Of their most secret hearts.
Clozapine
It baffles me how someone manages to capture your attention even if you're under the influence of Clozapine, a drug that makes you lose focus and let's the overthinking vanish for a while
If I Were Alice Today
If I were Alice today, I would rewrite Alice in Wonderland to start not by Alice falling down a rabbit’s hole to be one where Alice stumbles upon an overly filtered plastic human with zero verbal and moral filters.
Elissar’s Tears
Elissar’s thoughts were racing faster than her heart because she wanted to say her mind only she was hearing Beroe’s. Beroe herself was frozen in fear thinking she had let down her goddess. “Beroe give Elissar her seeds. Elissar give Beroe your crescent” ordered the goddess. Immediately, Beroe took Elissar’s Venus’ comb and combed out five ruby seeds that were as big as a plum, six blue sapphire seeds as big as an olive, and four amber seeds as big as a pea. Then Elissar broke off her ivory and crystal crescent from its golden cage in her tiara and gave it to Beroe as a tear dropped unto it making a dent.
Mirrored Tones
Taste is a matter of trust in one's
Own self not others' opinion.
Not all forms follow the norms.
Everywhere you look nature
Seems to mirror itself not others.
When Artists Converse
In the end, we are all mirrors that come in different shapes but we are mirrors that let you look within not at to take in and reflect all that come by to compare and compose. Whatever you do, remember, connection is the heart of art and conversation is the dart of art to perfection on the road to creativity.
Why are we depressed?
It was like a roller coaster swirling around through the speed of light. With the constant blurring sounds plus the never-ending drama anthologies of your existence. It was the moment, you want to take the knife and slash it into yourself, feel the weakening beat of your heart, and draw the last breath of your soul.
A Murder Of Reality
An unkindness in the lure
a conspiracy craving more
I cannot adapt, I’m sure!
in this insanity I adore
the murder of the flock
the hands of the ticking clock
I cannot tell if this is reality
or if it’s not
Cedars’ Box
By the time the sun rose to its zenith, the nation had filled the box with all its tears, dreams, fears, and hurts. Then it smoothed its outer veneer with forgiveness' sandpaper removing differences' rough edges and grudges' sharp edges.
Unblocking Myself
It has been a year. A year without holding a pen guilty purely for one reason; writing. And so, as this dreadful year ends, here's to the invisible barrier surrounding my mind ending as well.
Metronome Reality
And so my friend you now comprehend
why writing is a track where the end spells lack.
Like a metronome’s pendulum poetry is a medium
that keeps me going down this track and coming back!
Creative Flow
Creativity is a conversational flow
between a heart, mind and soul seeking to glow.
Where there is memory, a feeling must play
and a quill must dance and spill a heart's will.