Words have been falling from my pen like…
Well…
like nothing
No simile could explain it
No phrase could contain it and
I don’t think I would want to read my best try
I get the feeling that those words
Would come across as
Shallow and contrived
Like a third rate pick-up line
At a karaoke bar
After one to many Gin and Tonics
Not that I know anything
About that kind of behavior
But that’s not the point
I just have this feeling that maybe
I should slow down
I don’t want to be known as one of those
Who would abuse the gift of his muse
This is supposed to be catharsis
A means to cleanse the wounds I wear
Like badges on my soul
With fire and tears
To shout above the crowd
How beautiful and lovely she is
To look deep inside
And face my deepest fears
Once…
I even thought
It would be a good way to get laid
But I have since learned better.
Now, I don’t want to over dramatize this.
I tell people all the time
Anyone can do what I do;
String together a few words
And call it art.
That’s all it is
And most days it feels to me like
Mumbling in the dark
I love what I do
With every fiber of my being
I love what I do
I want others to love it to
And I’m terrified that someone might
There’s just something about this
That I can’t resist
I like to think of it as
Narcissism with a paranoid twist.
At times my desire makes me
Far to demanding of my muse
Though she may never know
I lean heavily on her
On days when I’m lost and confused
Struggling for balance
I find her like a crutch
And when the world around me
Gets to be all to much
I can hear her
Whispering in my ear
Remember
Prey for wisdom
It’s free but you have to look for it
Don’t be afraid to sacrifice timing
If it affords you an opportunity for honesty
Leave the rhymes by the wayside
As they don’t compare to emotional integrity
Carry yourself with confidence
This is what you do
Take a risk and have faith
Like I have faith in you
These are the most inspiring words
That I have never heard aloud
But I can feel the ideas
Whenever she’s around
Maybe this is the gift of the muse
Unto herself
The ability to communicate
Without a sound
Words have been falling from my pen like…
Well…
like nothing
No simile could explain it
No phrase could contain it and
I don’t think I would want to read my best try
I get the feeling that those words
Would come across as
Shallow and contrived
Like a third rate pick-up line
At a karaoke bar
After one to many Gin and Tonics
Not that I know anything
About that kind of behavior
But that’s not the point
I just have this feeling that maybe
I should slow down
I don’t want to be known as one of those
Who would abuse the gift of his muse
This is supposed to be catharsis
A means to cleanse the wounds I wear
Like badges on my soul
With fire and tears
To shout above the crowd
How beautiful and lovely she is
To look deep inside
And face my deepest fears
Once…
I even thought
It would be a good way to get laid
But I have since learned better.
Now, I don’t want to over dramatize this.
I tell people all the time
Anyone can do what I do;
String together a few words
And call it art.
That’s all it is
And most days it feels to me like
Mumbling in the dark
I love what I do
With every fiber of my being
I love what I do
I want others to love it to
And I’m terrified that someone might
There’s just something about this
That I can’t resist
I like to think of it as
Narcissism with a paranoid twist.
At times my desire makes me
Far to demanding of my muse
Though she may never know
I lean heavily on her
On days when I’m lost and confused
Struggling for balance
I find her like a crutch
And when the world around me
Gets to be all to much
I can hear her
Whispering in my ear
Remember
Prey for wisdom
It’s free but you have to look for it
Don’t be afraid to sacrifice timing
If it affords you an opportunity for honesty
Leave the rhymes by the wayside
As they don’t compare to emotional integrity
Carry yourself with confidence
This is what you do
Take a risk and have faith
Like I have faith in you
These are the most inspiring words
That I have never heard aloud
But I can feel the ideas
Whenever she’s around
Maybe this is the gift of the muse
Unto herself
The ability to communicate
Without a sound
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