Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Calling oneself a poet takes unmitigated gall and guts  
And he or she should be prepared 
To throw oneself off a high cliff
Or under the proverbial bus
Whenever the expression of innermost thoughts,
Emotions, ideas or beliefs are concerned 
Those who lay it all out on the line often times
Get busted, beaten, belittled or burned.

Speaking straight from the heart 
And soul typically involves taking 
A road less easily traveled 
Or mountain made steeper to climb   
From those who read but cannot see  
Beauty and truth hit them between their eyes.

To write of an ex-lover may tend to uncover 
Bones buried deep in the past
Which are better unearthed for whatever they’re worth:  
Sweet memories rarely fade fast. 

Or perhaps you agree with riots in the streets
And nothing is worth more attention 
Than a poet who subscribes
To every person who ought to strive 
Towards the greatest good 
For self and other friends 
While you might think it better 
To mind my own business
And stop writing about reality and make pretend…     

Penning one’s personal moments 
For others to debate 
Is akin to placing their head on a stump 
While waiting for the blade to penetrate
Skin and bone and taking us home 
To a place where no one laughs
At anything we say or think 
And our poetry will forever last. 

Longer than the blood-letting 
That oozes from our brains 
While others stand outside of us 
Laughing in the rain
As we foolish, fussy writers keep on 
Twisting words and phrases
And the world keeps right on turning 
Like our pithy, poetic pages.    

12/4/2014

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