B u r d e n

My latest poetic journey takes us through the land of creativity, through the mind of negativity and crossing the boundaries of all creationist's worst nightmares.
I offer to you a story of a man who's art is his lover, who's story to tell is of his love/hate affair with his own creativity


Are you sure you’ve been receptive,
Have you heard these feathers calling,
Have you placed the roses on the casket
Have you laid down your quill?
These time pieces lay stagnant,
A drawn robot for your convention,

A missile for your towers,
A memory never forgotten.

Are you sure you are familiar,
with the words that I’ve been whispering,
The strange tales of what has been,
The sweet nothings on her shoulder?

I dream in indigo, a taste of the rocks in her ear,
Can this curse be replaced?
Can this tomb be removed?
Can this shadow be awoken?

Are you sure you’ve been receptive,
The metaphors are ink for your ears.

The End

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