"The Quill Pen"
...Let it bleed...
Break the bread & let the letters feed,
Dishing food for thought type recipes;
The wax drips, off of the candle wick,
Absorbing passages and canvas pics,
Imagine it...messages in manuscripts,
Esoteric enigmas that challenge wit,
Asking riddle me this, riddle me that,
Off the wall that's riddled & cracked,
Scribblin' facts...see what visual lacks,
Leapt from Voodoo step to ritual acts,
...dab some ink, let the rapture bleed,
As my Quill pen narrates rhapsody,
Dreams crafted deep...fall fast asleep,
& visualize Da Vinci's master piece...
Let a thousand words paint a picture,
These portraits of ancient scriptures,
Take you far & wide, past star & sky,
Words go farther than a car can drive,
On this carpet ride; we quest in verse,
Mountain high to the depths of earth,
Let it bleed...time travel the seventies,
Cross the land mass & the seven seas,
Soul of sound...let the flow confound,
When imagination knows no bounds,
"Only rhyme structure trapping me"
Its ink blotch forms a liquid tapestry,
We could get swept up & cast to sea,
& drown in a fountain of knowledge,
Or have these mountains demolished,
...We can fly high on the feather Quill,
Fluttering only where weather wills,
Over the nether hills; past the clouds,
It could shed a tear or laugh out loud,
Recite our lows & passionate peaks,
I grip tight...but my grasping is bleak,
I struggle to put it back in its sheath,
Quills erratic; words span the pages,
Ain't no metaphor; now it's animated,
Pens possessed...& hands are tainted,
Off on its own like it was amputated,
Pen almost begets a life of its self;
It scribbles in an awkward way,
Best keep it locked away;
And let the
Bleeding
Verse
Drip
Off
ya
P
a
g
e
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