Poets' Corner

O! the tangle of emotion we evoke
with only words as tools
we work the mass like carding wool
with a gentle murmur
with a constant pull
and weave a tapestry upon your mind.
O! the plethora of wounds we can inflict
with only words as weapons
eviscerative metaphor stopping your heart
in midair with our pens
then let the ink flow soft
like cool water over parched skin
and show our vision clear.
O! the myriad of hope we have to give
with only words on paper
and neither lasts forever yet
each soothing drop touches the page
touches the soul touches eternal spirit
and every heart we wound
and every mind we weave
is changed.

Š2001 themomx2

Index

Bootstraps

If the world were to turn once too often,
and I opened my eyes to the dawn
to see only dark and disorder,
to find all the familiar was gone,
where would I go to recover my life?
Would I go on forever alone?
If I found myself lost in my own home,
like a stranger who sat in my chair
and performed all my lines in my own voice,
in my skin, because I wasn't there,
where could I turn to recover my life?
Is there anyone else who would care?
I have been in the halls of delusion,
I have watched the extinction of me,
and from ashes and tears, out of nothing,
I've rebuilt what I knew I could be.
I know where to go to recover my life,
and I know how to keep myself free.
Wield the word that's in your hand
and change the world with song.
Hold your vision of your life
built as you go along.
Confronting opposition you
command yourself: be strong!
For all the power is in your pen
to change your world with song.

Š2001 themomx2

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