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What Brilliance Through Yawning Window Breaks.

Updated on January 10, 2010

In the wee hours
that psychopaths, drunks
and insomniacs frequent,
I sit here quite sober,

wide awake and
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 then my convictions
locked tightly inside
my brain cells,
can only be freed by
dancing fingers
fiddling with the keys.


These 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 the
late night shifts
of pressing thoughts
into fine whines
expose a dark side.

But at other times
I grow giddy
as the gods grace

the 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-conscious

caretakers,
but it could be
the cry of a poet
taking hold of

his consciousness

and rousing it

with great care.

©-MFB III

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