Poem: What is Poetry?

What is poetry?
Lines of text, typed in a document
Or scrawled on a page in ink, carbon blood

I write poetry
to tell the world how I feel
What I think
To express those things that prose
simply cannot adequately convey.

Sometimes I write in cutesy rhymes,
Iambic pentameter keeping the time
With fairies, hearts, childhood dreams,
Filling up the paper, bursting out at the seams,

Sometimes I SCREAM at the world
Castigating the selfish evil
That plagues good people
Ripping apart lives
With greed.

Sometimes I whisper untold truths
That no one wants to hear
About Death, the end of things,
about the little child inside crying
about holes of darkness
waiting for one misstep
one wrong move...

That is why I come here,
To free my thoughts
Give comfort to those which stay hidden by day
GIve flight to those which rise up to the sun

Will you join me?

Tear off the scabs of your heart
and pour your blood down on the page
Let loose the foul beasts of your soul
To rampage, agitate, run amuk
among the tangled web of your thoughts

I do not promise that I will laugh,
I do no promise to cry,
I promise no sighs,
But this I do promise...

I will listen.

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