Our Creation

Simple things like love arent easy to understand My pen trembles, my thoughts scramble All my monsters are weak in her presence Its sad how they no longer seem ugly she says I do not write poetry for her no more I found simple pleasure in her presence Thieving a man from his madness Like a candle forcing the darkness to speak We still play but no longer keep score She is my poetry but... But she says I dont write poetry for her no more I left that role to my daughter sitting in her womb Her tiny fingers like thunderbolts and tornadoes She catches placental waters like raindrops And scribbles like her father Silent as the night before a revolution At a bonfire listening to insects recite their stories About their evolution and our revolution She says I dont write poetry for her no more In a world full of fury, sin and silence Choices choose us. We got nothing to lose except strangers I live poetry through her beautiful life The beautiful matrix of our creation embedded in her belly She says I dont write poetry for her no more I let my faber castell assault the paper I write about non existent revolutions Spread propaganda like a library of lovers No full stop to my literary nonsense I m like tepid pause in a witch's cauldron I m a poetry proctor peddling my stories to wishing wells I m a failing bridge giving her away to the chasm below In one life there is a trillion choices But in two lives there is none She says I dont write poetry for her no more Her feet burden with the weight of my world My secrets and sins between her toes I rub them off whenever I get a chance Her legs long and divine like the history of my lineage They follow behind the absence of my steps She says I never write poetry for her no more In my head I found answers, tenfolds of answers Answers too complex to pronounce So I decided to scribble this love poem on her maternity dress She says I dont write poetry for her no more more... http://illegitimatepoets.blogspot.com/