out of any two thoughts i have
one is devoted to poetry
but i have yet to learn the importance of a line
no conquer pen
as would mountain
when climb
is not mountain also legs
when write
ink and paper control poem
as much as hand
i want to write another book but i can’t
i can only write poems
and now it seems even those are falling short
of my relentless search for truth
stop searching
but all i can do is write
then write
discipline in spontaneity
and spontaneity in discipline
its like a gentle swaying
an almost ocean like rocking
against the rhythmic crescents of my disjointed thoughts
joined only by the common constant desire to create
no focus
no control
no patience
no trust
do not try to finish poem
hopeless
only try to realize truth
then u see is not poem that is crafted
but only yrslf
creation is the bridge between me and Allah
Zen say stand by yr thoughts as u would a wide river
proverbs say diligent hand will rule
Kant say greatest value in world to man
freedom of choice
so if i widen the bridge between
my valuable thoughts
and my diligent hands
what greater world am i free to create
what greater man can u choose to become
i take my tea the way i take my poetry
first thing in the morning
with two bags of earl grey
that have been soaking since last night
sipped with meticulous patience
its almost strong enough
if you don’t do the things u love
you will easily forget the joy u found in them
takes plenty faith to put down sail
and float to current
that current shall set u free
but taste of freedom is bittersweet
of this i know too well
i’m searching for that raw uncooked truth
so elemental that it has no composition
only decomposed atoms to its fibers
patience
let the poems right themselves
drugs are a natural thing to mistake it for
but i’ve tasted what’s real
no impulse
no thought
no patience
no truth
him that i felt could do for me is trapped inside
somebody that’s slowly killing me
and i didn’t even know he was there until now
abuses my use of time
puts poison into my body
he is choking the life from me as we very speak
this person must die a violent and horrible death
no, u must let him slip from the outstretched grasp
of your scarred and hang nailed fingers
slowly and quietly
and stealthily retreat into the night
no open mind
no open eye
no passion
no peace
in order to become a creator i must first create myself
