The Twelve Pillars of Poetry

Imagination is the river that guides the quill. Dreams the sailing ship that unleashes the voyage through the pages of a poets mind. To write is to find the meaning of love. Where beauty opens the gate, to a never ending yellow brick road Of human emotion. for that is what we seek The pen can create gods and mortal frailty. Sunshine is the span of life, the darkness is forever and within these letters we find immortality. The candle burns when sanity sleeps authors are laid fallow when the desert refuses to create. Scribbling among the midnight ghouls caught in the faith of their conviction. Love is the demon when curtains close and the rose a symbol Of what might have been. Whiskey is the oil for some that guides the brush. For love is their canvass, the bleeding soul their paint and only the heart knows the colour of these falling tears. For when the bottle is empty when the heart can take no more. Our soul bleeds over the page solace comes from tomorrow and our insanity will take its place Beauty is found in pain hope is an emerald sea, envy comes from Oscar’s words and belief becomes a prejudice. The pen will drown your epitaph for the Cyclops knows his destiny The poets of the world so sweet is your fruit. yet you remain anonymous for life is but a dream. Words are a jigsaw of fears, a confession trapped in the confetti of poems Which you shout to the world all judged in the courts of obscurity. The book is now written all have prostituted their existence the devil has been cleansed This sweet apple has been examined The fruit has turned into despair. Whiskey has turned to wine the ark of life belongs to silence, this gallery has no visitors. So stay drunk in your bed tonight Words are best left in dreams and be glad that your life will dissolve into obscurity. These are the final words of life, for the poet has no such luxury our pain is for all to see.