A poem about being driven to write and how it is more part of me than anything else. |
-Conducted In Form- by Keaton Foster Conducted in form These poetic words A monument to a life Mine Not yours Hold no jealous edge What I have You would not want No human being Should ever be burdened In such an impossible way I write because I must I live because I was born A condition of one and the same They are the cause For every breath And every beat Each calculated thought Forms into an idea Every idea screams Express me you must Onto blankness I bleed Never once do I not believe I commit to each word Every line is paramount The calculated price of my soul Within every hidden message When I am done I often wonder Will others understand And if they don’t Will it or I have made any difference Will I get the relief deserved Or will I continue on A slave to the blank page A servant to an ever-expansive mind Working while there is work to be done Conducted in form Doing what I do What I know that I must What was born into me Is a machine of creativeness Fueled by my life experiences There are no boundaries At least none to be confessed The blank page calls For me there is nothing less… Conducted In Form Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012. |