What Brilliance From Yawning Window Breaks.


What Brilliance From Yawning Window Breaks?




In the wee hours
that psychopaths, drunks
and insomniacs frequent,
I sit here wide awake,
killing only time.

No longer consumed
by the bottle
but battling with
bottled up emotions.

I usually find myself
able to get a grip,
but only on a pen,
and my convictions
that are locked
tightly inside
my brain cells,
can only be freed by
my dancing fingers
fiddling with the keys.

Eventually the sandman
grows tired of waiting,
and storms out,
flinging a dust-devil
of sleep dirt in my eyes
that drives me

to tented sheets.

What is physical
is often stronger
then what I know
as inner strength.

My muscled hands

could go on typing
or scribbling for hours
but without motivation
I would simply be
documenting gibberish.

Why am I driven
to capture
my elusive soul
and bind it
in a paper prison?
Does anyone else
long to be the
warden of their dreams?

Sometimes my
late night shifts
of pressing thoughts
into fine whines  
exposes my dark side.

This leaves many

crumpled balls of failure
shot with heated rage
like bullet-tins
against the wall.
while I sit ankle deep
in a pile of
man-made snowballs.

But at other times
I grow giddy
as the gods grace my
sacrifice of time
with blessings penned.

You will see such phenomena
whenever you are out late,
cruising on a lonely highway,
You'll notice one lighted window
in a vast field of darkness.

Perhaps it is just the wail
of a newborn rousing
its semi-unconscious

but it could be
the cry of a poet
taking hold of his consciousness

and rousing it with great care.


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