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“But… Poetry never left me”
The world is a scarred tissue
to all that inhabit it.
The beings that occupy this
place are worse than the
devil's sins.
They use words
that are empty…
Useless in all formats of
emotions and creation…
People who said that
cared have left,
lovers and cherished
ones have left,
miscellaneous ones
have come and gone.
But… Poetry has never left me.
It is my lover that can never
get enough from me.
It lusts after me as a foaming
from the mouth mad meat
eating driven beast starving for
something to have in its belly.
Ready to sink its teeth into my
flesh tasting the blood in my veins
and crushing bone in the process.
Ravishing me to the point
of death but there is no death
but a birth of something
new and vibrant and
not inconsistent.
Creating life, when my world
is burning and turning.
It finds a way to ease me when
I have the knife to my veins
to end it all.
It tells me to tell everyone
to go to ***ing hell when
The stress is at the limit.
It shows me where the war
and peace in the worlds
ignorance lies.
Can you feel the pulse of it calling
me or you to feed others what it
wants to share or tell.
es have come and gone,
Fakefriends have
failed me in the end,
Family and loved ones have
left me hanging in the wind.
But… Poetry has remained my friend.
So when you’re sharing your life and its energy with someone and they tell you that your craft is a waste of time, you tell them to go throw themselves under a train because poetry has never failed you, or left you for another to lie, cheat, steal and defy.
My work, skills, imagination, thoughts, pain, joy, description of things are the best to me.
Who gives a damn what you think.
The fact is that poetry
have never left me.
The fact is that it
has stuck with me
through thick and thin.
I’ll use all that I must use to get
the point across on a page but leaving
it at the corner as if was a pile of
garbage it will never be an option
as long as there is life in my veins.
Seasons have come and gone,
hurricanes have come
and destroyed,
love has caused some of the
worst damage in my world,
jobs have fired me and have
done some of the most injustice
things against morality.
But… Poetry has never left me.
Tell them, tell all that are in your life
that nothing that they do will replace
the thirst that we crave for the
expressions of our minds that we
jot down on the dotted line.
Continue to feed me as
a baby in its infancy.
Poetry…
I still have so much
to gain, so much
to learn, so much
to express.
Poetry…
My thoughts are
connected with
the universe 24/7.
Poetry…
All my work when
my days are done will
be the ancient scrolls
of wisdom.
Naz’e
9/4/06
