.I write to bleed
an excercise to excise
the toxins of angst
from my taxed brain.
Useless wars, town hell meetings,
child abuse, greedy banks
and so many other human follies
motivate me to cry out.
I also seek to share
the overabundance of love,
that graces my days,
wringing my soul out
like a washcloth
over those who are parched
for drenchings of hope,
in their lonely conclaves.
Nature often moves me
like a ball of dandelion seed,
my thoughts tumbling in awe
at the vast beauty before me,
as I spread my fertile thoughts
in cotton soft plantings of words.
I write to reach
all that is untouchable,
my black keys
opening closed minds
just enough perhaps to
insert other possibilities
left unconsidered.
Newspapers are
my main medium,
the remnants of
trees executed
so that I can bark,
and take my leaves
in fanciful thought.
Placing alpha-bets
in a gamble that might
make others winners
in the game of life.
But mainly because
some higher force
fills me with an
enlightenment,
I am but one
of many candles
graced with the fires of
heavenly thoughts
illuminating the darkness
that grips our world.
I condense thought
from the evaporation of tears,
and in the brilliance of smiles spread,
I fingerpaint my passions
with frantic digits flying
across a rectangular stamping pad.
I rant and wail in coffeehouses
blackening even the palest lattes,
I recite whispered bliss in love's ears
and stroke her needs
with my tongued endearments.
I have immortalized death
and obliterated life at times
having been baptized in its essence,
I have cradled newborns, and dying men
in my arms, each set of eyes full of wonder,
but I have yet to touch the bottom of my soul.
The well of thoughts
and dreams that puddle there,
are not yet drawn to slake my thirst,
to capture life's intensity in a splash of ink
define the true beauty of it all
and become at long last---
po-ethereal.
ArtWhimsically Yours Studio
MFB III Productions-(c)-2010
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