"Imprisoned"
A writer….a pen…a pad, and his mind…
Combined, interlace a lifeform visually confined,
Intertwine, such imagination freely from the blind,
Spots of hind, quarter imagery that kicks at those behind,
You…
Inscribe horizons and land-scapes,
Provided through hand-scrapes,
Inspired by architectual gestures…
A measure of a mind that demands-great,
Normally commands-fate,
Through eyelids shut but visualizing textures…
Then lecture what divides an image by syllabic rhymes,
Arithmetic lines, multiplied by sums producing nouns…
Adding a couple verbs,
Which subtracts from all the herbs,
Constructing a bat that navigates directions from the sounds…
The writer…his pen…his pad, and his mind…
Combined, interlacing what develops from his thoughts…
The art which comes together giving to sight to all whos blind,
To the value of a painting from a brain that can’t be bought…
In laying down the canvas, he sharpens up his brush,
Then dips the tip in a liquid for his college ruled-lust,
Influenced to flow congruently imaginations flushed,
The work of a Michaelangelo empowered by a thrust,
Of the wrist, with a little twist, which develops deep,
Meaning to his words, consequently makes his paper weep,
With the tears, that can’t be erased, he just lets it seep,
Dripping in a jar, sealed for which emotions he should keep,
To later reuse that ink, to remind each of his fans,
That he does this from the heart, through an art he doesn’t plan,
Adrenaline jerks his ligaments creating what a man,
Is only able to carbonate when trapped inside a can…
That writer…that pen…that pad, and that mind…
Free…now that he has found the key that works his cell…
Sliding open the bars, hoping the exits ajar,
Be let back out in the world, walking head high from his jail…