Last drop for a while, except for one collaboration that`s coming up. Enjoy this one people.
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One time I asked how did creativity start and
I was exposed to a world of hate, the word
called fate that is saved by the pen
in the teardrop reign. Political drain
and the pseudonym for pain, acronyms
are really not that long, but then a gain
is not really that much. A dollar earned is a
dollar spent and an adultery learned about.
Music, I cheated on you with poetry.
It was sooooooo invigorating.
I believed in magic for a while, a flutter
in the stomach when I was able to write
again. One of the better mistakes in my
life. Two lines running down the side of
my manuscript, bad printer drum.
Two lines running down my mind, two
sides to the brain. Told me I was left behind.
Told him I was right up front.
Told me I was dumb, all the
abstract hypnosis was nothing to learn
about.
I excelled in English.
I faaaailllledd you transcript gloom.
I thought art was music torwards eyes,
that molding a future of a character
was frolic in the park. I was in a dark
room getting inspiration - and they called
me weird. Cacophony in unison.
Chaff grenades blowing up with ideas.
I guess by then I had lived enough to
experience the wolrd. Take it on
single handed. I was ready enough
for love - for hate. For the meticulous
pressure that it had.
A writer is always a little weird.
They try not to be, but there's
a little noticeable eccentricity in
the corner of their eye.
Slash / fiction in the palm
of their hands. A sweet lullaby
at the death, reading their works.
Live enough artists.
Live enough writers.
Live enough musicians.
Because if you don't,
what fun do we have when
we're all dead?
(c) DJ 2006 10/20/2006 3:12 P.M.
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