Written art is subjective
A simple collective
Of simple lines
Filled with complex words

Poetry is a revolution of emotions
Sparking your heart into life
When words make love (or war)
On parchment before your eyes
'Tis indeed a beautiful sight
But one forgets diversity is needed
For continuation,
Imagination in exploration
Simplicity in explanation
An answer must be given some were along the lines
Poetry made for the beauty of the shapes
Can make money and will win the prize
But were is its soul?

Understand the drive behind the lines

The poet,
Explanation,
Or exploration?

A response,
A little frayed,
around the edges
From a storyteller
Talking down from his books.
So lost in his words
He just miss-understood
That the poet who frees himself
Into slavery is nort but a fool
Raise yourself above all else
And fined your self as the tool
For escapism with out a solution
No answer to a question screamed out
So loud that the Gods had to cover their ears!

Understand what it was ment to be

The Poet,
A simple explanation
To avoid miss-conception?

Clich array
Of new arrangements
As is a twice starter
Two times more than you
In the answer with a dot
Little form
And little love
Everyone, an address . . .
Everyone all along
Knows its really not them
A dead line between lines
Mixed in with the fray
To possibly make it
More easy to see
Nort more than separation
Of something almost poetic,
But deliberately not!
A phrase from a script
Lyrical with a bite
As is the as, used only but twice
Written as plane as the nose on your face
Two known phrases
Perhaps only one
Or a deliberate mistake . . .

The poet,
A deep exploration
Of a disjointed conception?

As you've closed your eyes by now
As any answers been ignored
As the solution is the problem
As I see it we must disagree on it
As we should both put it down
As a difference of opinion
As you think your free, same as I
As often as I write as a as being something
As soon as I finish, how petty, how foolish
As is, as, as dos, I is as nort but as
As is our natures, I don't ignore mine


Penned by my hand on the 16th of Valnuary, in the year 319 AF.