Saturday, March 28, 2015

The Artist's Drain

How can I ignore this feeling I feel?
This pain is real,
Yet it has such appeal.
Stirs a pot of emotion,
Boils over like an ocean,
With a touch of exotic notion.
Brings me back to childhood dreams,
When all was simple or so it seems,
Night skys and sweet moon beams.
So goes the rambling of my rage,
Placing my passion on the page,
Writing from the soul of a sage.
Woken in me is something that was dead,
Side by side with something that I dread,
It was that I bled before I fled.
So now I sit in paralysis,
A state of nocturnal bliss,
As if stuck by that heavenly kiss.
Sometimes words aren't enough to explain,
For words in comparison appear so plain,
So I must use the artistic outlet just to drain.

Scott Izu, PhD
© March 2015

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