Because the world was too bright, she thought.
Maybe she should write about stagnation
Procrastination and avoidance
She was good at that
Hiding for the sake of inconceived invisibility
Maybe she should stop speaking in poetry
The simplicity was deafening
This ceased to appease her anymore
Maybe this was evident of the way she wasted time
On no one anymore
It was an easy scape goat
Too busy, too much to do
She was feeding her inequity
Piece by peace
The emptiness was thrilled at
being so full of nothingness
Blame the blank page on writer’s block
even though she held Enclopedia’s full
of memories and messages.
She should ask her audience what they want to hear
Even though they are not the artists
Please tell me what to play for you
I want to hear the echo of false adulations
To continue my delusion of shallow waters
Worry me not into the throes of
How did he know how to speak to the dissatisfaction
that would replay for centuries?
God, angels or Satan at his best
that we as humans were destined to repeat
our own inequities in the shape
of Stagnation, Procrastination and Avoidance
They play for us don’t they?
Jesters for Fools
Where is the real center
of passion’s grip?
Why do we hide it in the guise of “living”
Help me to help her understand
we don’t create for your applause
we don’t live for the adulation
of pre-packaged and obvious
shallow words you wish to hear
Fool me not as a student of hearing
lambs praise the wolf for a place
to lay their heads.