one day it started comeing, comeing in visions
like water flowing from an endless river
into an infinate sea of poetry, prose
and mental pictures painted vivid, and livid.
I have no clue how the words evolved
but seemingly melt into the paper from the pen
blending the two forming a union
which creates poetry.
Words can be quite painful, words can be severe,
but also words can be used to inspire great revolutions.
I sit on my front porch amidst chaos with crushed
confidence, crushed beer cans and an empty smile.
That is poetry in its true essence, true form.
Poetry is the laughter of a child,
the call of the wild,
a remaniscant memory from deep thought, and a tear
that is squeezed from my eye as I listen to deep
music that cleanses the soul from the inside out.
Music is poetry broken down, a golden crown,
an open wound, broken vowels of a marriage
gone wrong.  Poetry is the wind, as I ascend
with the claws of an eagle, the jaws of a shark
into this raw cerebral in the abyssmal of the laws of the heart.
Free and clear, clean and crisp
dirty and dengy, raw and gutter trash.
I feel so much energy comeing from every direction,
poetry will change your memory, rearrange your perception,
engage a reflection
on top of plateaus above fields of golden stranded barren
land, rain like GOD's tears.
The sun, a great glowing, shineing eye, illuminateing the oasis
as the the patient walker finds sanity in a barren, arid desert
like a giant ashtrey for the Gods'.
The world at night a box of moonlight as the echo of the moon
shines down complimenting the all to tumulterous posture of mother earth.
Poetry is a lion caged, a man in jail,
a crying sage, a plan that's failed,
poetry is a art of word, an art that is dying, but my lungs that breathe
the most pleasurable of life into wasted lives,
silver moons, tainted skies,
painted eyes.  Poetry is death, it is life,
it is but medicine to the conscious mind feeding us hope and strength, vision
and understanding. Poetry is like water fluid, it goes where is pleases, it bleeds
and pleads where I pledge, I feed where I need, greed is but a grudge...

I liked your poem. Thank you.

Suzi

Very well constructed.  Very deep.

Namaste,
Beaujolais