poetry always wants to be

poetry always wants to be

re-created
and

re-invented

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