Poetic Cannibals

By With love_Crow

Troubled thoughts that have no home
Float atop your cebrospinal fluid
The meaningless ideas don't seem to sink
Cause they're piling up until you can't think

And all you have is that pen in hand
Ready to carve up a feast for your spiritual satisfaction
The salvation within your salivation
The taste of sonnets becoming your intoxication

You are the artist of your times
Painting the world around you without graphic representation
All you need are the words and a crumbled script
And a Picasco work comes from a sheet that's ripped

The starved reach out to have just a crumb
Of the late night contemplations and morning deliberations
You serve the hungry your heart and soul
And they eat it up leaving you a bottomless hole.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.

Published on Wednesday, April 18, 2012. Filed under: "Poetry"

Awards

August 15th, 2017

Comments on "Poetic Cannibals"

A former member wrote: i love this! there seem to be only a few that really grab me on this sight. but yours truly did.
On Thursday, April 19, 2012, dwells (4285) wrote:

Boy, ain't that the truth now! This was great and maybe moms are indeed our best audience. But then some things would disturb her - enter Dark Poetry! Well done WLC.
On Wednesday, April 18, 2012, FadedBlues (2169) wrote:

...fascinating concept: a world where art is consumed like addictive drugs & you, the artist, destroyed thru her own creations...
On Wednesday, April 18, 2012, Magdalena (615) wrote:

Thought provoking wonderful pen, I like it when things build up and spill over in ink, an emptying of me when it gets too heavy to carry around on the most part...I like to read the depth of others too. :)