Author Information
The Only Art I've Ever Made
Folder:
2008 I wish I could be a poet
Mark moments of time
in fragrant verses
vibrant and full of life
metaphors for beauty and love
or lust and sin
Whatever you should choose
as long there's passion in each rhyme
I wish I could be a singer
a musician writing feelings
into verses divine
sung so that
the angels here on earth
will cry
and Heaven finally understands
the problems of humanity
I wish I could be an artist
paint perfection imperfection
what I see behind
closed eyes
on a canvas formerly white
so you can contemplate
the meaning of images
from someone else's fragmented mind
But I'm not a poet
I can't write a single rhyme
I'm no siren
leading blessing cursing in a song
And I'm no artist
all these pictures stay
inside my mind
where they belong
I'm just a human
no more than any other man
not a devil, not an angel
not an artist, not a saint
Every painting is too shabby
too many shades of grey
Every melody's been heard before
and the harmony is just the same
No verse that means a single thing
can be ascribed to my
swiftly fading sinking falling dying name
Just the grave without a flower
as time erodes the only art
I've ever made
