the poet's old tongue
laid out to squirm on the table
the paintbrush sharpened
like an ancient arrow, then shot
across the universe, the G string
stretched to capacity
it's the fire inside
that place you cannot put your fingers on
that dancing spark
the artist is a vessel
sailing on a sea of imagination
lapping waves with messages
in bottles of smooth green glass
it's the Infinite Jest
the tears of the ghosts
it has to happen
the elements always collide
the genius is in the respite
the ensuing explosion.......
the big bang
the big bang
the big bang
If you do not change your direction
you may end up where you are heading
you may end up where you are heading
Re: the big bang
the paintbrush or pen, or, or ... yes, you can't quite put a finger on those fires.
Re: the big bang
thanx for the feedback
i was wandering the pages
like a man looking for a way out
there were walls of poems
built high, day after day
it was warm inside
I recognized some faces
my heart rate slowed down
my eyes dilated, my chest rose
kaboooooom
i was wandering the pages
like a man looking for a way out
there were walls of poems
built high, day after day
it was warm inside
I recognized some faces
my heart rate slowed down
my eyes dilated, my chest rose
kaboooooom
If you do not change your direction
you may end up where you are heading
you may end up where you are heading
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