Wednesday, November 13, 2013

The Artist

I feel the ravages of forced rhyme
The cold hurt of poetic crime
I’m slammed by the pain of awful prose
When the words are repeated and the mind slows
It’s borne of anger caressing my soul
It’s flamed by resentment taking its toll
I feel the hurt of sad lies told
Of once new ideas that now feel old
I am resisting the pull of madness and hate
I want to be free of sorrow before it’s too late
Look for the angels that bring the light
Dance with them into the starry night
Insist that the best come from your heart
Sacrifice sacrifice in the name of your art

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