Saturday, 28 March 2015

poetry always wants to be

poetry always wants to be
it is never the last word for poetry
yet it always finds a way to have the last say
you wake up in the morning
with poetry foaming in your jowls
you go to bed
with poetry licking your bedposts
and tugging your eyelashes
it always wants to be felt
and sung and screamed out loud
it always escapes you when you want to pin it down
poetry does not relent
it is that primal pulse that once it has
knocked in your throat
will keep on knocking 
poetry has a way of grazing your shins
and letting the scar itch throughout your life
like falling stones it ricochets off
the cliffs of my sanity
embedding its shrapnel deep
inside my flesh

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