Monday, December 15, 2008


Mr. Songwriter
Your words, though spoken in some foreign city
Become relevant or even more distant
Let it be the next sappy love song
I can apply to a new sweetheart
Or the tearing of the sinews
Of your sung tragedy

Mr. Artist
Your brush strokes or your editing
Make me want to weep
Or rip the very canvas from the wall
Wishing to never blink as to view ever after
Or gouge out my eyes to never see again

Ms. Writer
Your pen scribbles stain the paper
With words of metaphorical genius
Or callused irony shredding my brain
Makes me want to dog ear this page
Or burn the manuscripts to forever rid

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