Warning! Warning! Evidence of Art!
Ship ready to split apart!
Due to overuses of the creative hand
See the thoughts apart, buried in sand
Rusty pipelines yielding, ship is discharged.
Percentage of death at is all time large
Empty hulls shatter into papers of work
What was once a ship of acrobatically flying is soaring in berserk
Knowing the answer:
I am dead like Cancer
Into the maelstrom my ship has be destroyed
Now in the maelstrom there is papers in a void
Floating here like a piece of space junk
Of poems and stories I have sunk
This. Is. Not. The. End.
I can live through this, I comprehend
I know why I am floating here
In this vast knowledgeable whirlpool I do not fear.
So I thrive.
Into the spaces of the work to survive.
Reading endless through this lost frontier.
Knowing now: I am the Maelstrom Pioneer.
View User's Journal
Poetry.
The Artist's last poetry on this horrid site.
Community Member