Lions

We never asked for the screaming
It just busted the windows and came in

A burglar stealing our thoughts
Leaving us with gaps on shelves
A broken mural of men
Trying to paint ourselves

As if that weren’t enough
Those walls, they’ll close in
The people that don’t understand
Will treat it like it’s our own sin

They’ll build up crashing waves
Then bring ‘en down on our clout
Villafy us in their village
And wonder why we don’t come out

They’ll claim we’re the bullet
From their tragedy’s gun
They forget who pulled the trigger
As if their works could be undone

And yet their stance is fatally firm
Our illness is the matter
They climb up like King Kong
Standing high atop their tatters

Oh but they’ll pretend to care
Without action to match word
Turning us into rhetoric
Silencing a voice to be heard

So instead we cling to our pride
Nursing the pain that leaves us crying
But if you took the splinters from our paws
You’d see us stand as lions

Sleep

You ever try to sleep,
But end up dreaming?
An attempt to take a break from life
Where instead you find another meaning?

People tell me I look tired
And they’re usually right.
It feels like a waste of time
Just breathing through the night

Yet somehow our bodies demand it
Just a little break from the struggle
Of playing our games in the day
In fear we might stumble

We live this life on razor’s edge
So much so we value unconciousness
Time wasted in blanket’s hug
Can you believe that preposterousness?

Should it not be a bit different?
Sleep oughta be an inconvenient chore
A necessary skip in time
We’re just made to endure

Yet a temporary death in our slumber
Instead brings reprieve to our pain
We’re lions tamed to house cats
Look in the mirror and notice your mane

When it’s time to sleep
Do it because you must
Don’t resign to being a machine
Just enjoying your own rust

You ever try to dream;
Just to end up asleep?

Gladiators

A bull whip crack on sunstained back.

An ancient tradition on dusted ground

Prepare for the fate of predictable outcome;

One chance to buy yourself,

One to gain freedom through victory,

And yet a thousand to die on the sand.

Fight for the coin to bring freedom

A chain undone through wealth

Live for the hope of a rudis

Salvation won through glory

Kill for the carrot on the stick

Die for the joy of the crowd

Artist

You are an artist

Maybe you haven’t figured out how?
What marble will you cut to form?
Start with whatever you can allow
So long as it breaks you from norm

Through your expression
You’ll find a new view
A lasting impression
Of the real you

Me, I’m a poet
The lost son of a storyteller
And a song
I try to make words dance
While I sing along

I learned that from stories
They tend to hit me like trains
Yet I just end up wondering
Where they’re going
And from where they came

Those thoughts drove me to write
To pick up the immortal pen
And move to banish from sight
The ignorance of myself then

We must all find what moves us
To give our voices something to say
Really that’s what makes it art
Whether it’s in sound or clay

We are artists

We protest with our creation
We show them our plight
Make known our indignation
And carry out our fight

We show beauty with our craft
We Highlight the curves of sky
Spreading light with each draft
To make the world less dry

We show heroes in our work
We inspire some valor
When the creatures that lurk
Expect us to cower

You are an artist
Don’t tell yourself you’re not
At least when you go down
You’ll know you fought