The Fall
I usta be able to
Pull it out
on
Demand
But now
Now
I wait
Like an addict
Sick for my next hit of
Ink
Words
Stanzas
Carefully places thoughts
Yes
I miss it
Like clean air
Or grandma grown veggies
Homemade marmalade
I miss seeing a poem in
EVERYTHING
Every thing I could imagine
Came thru my hands
Etched out the tips of my
Fingertips
Drip from the ball of my pen
Creating masterpieces placed
Lovingly together by
Emotional structures
Standing on the accent of each stroke
Every BOLD crooked
Printed cursive line
I’ve never written symphonies
But thru my pen
I have conducted
The opera of life thru
Words
Played the sweetest harmonies
That dance in front of your eyes
My every experience
Was held
Majestically
Between the spaces of
Each
Word
My triumphs
Myself induced
Defeats
My struggles
My ambitions
Dreams
All stored
Between the spaces
& The many pages
of countless
Notebooks
Journals
Napkins
Menus
Flyers
Scrolls
Parchment
It was my religion
& I was the most devote
Believer
Worshipping
Words
Holy scriptures
Gifted to me by the Most High
Anointed Scribe
But I forsaken it
Took the blessings for granted
Selfishly
Pridefully
Sinfully
I fell
Broke my quill
Could no longer spill
Ink
On gilded pages
No longer serve
In the army of
Writing soldiers
Give away my mojo
For vanity
And now I suffer
Fiend
For words that once wore my
exclusively
Want the words to
Love
Me
Again
End Point
4/7/14
Written by: Nubian Star
NUHBEGINC MULTIMEDIA