‘W’r’i’t’e’r’s’ M’a’d’n’e’s’s’

Flowing grey, colors gloom, 

Days to nights the hours zoom.

Sitting working writing lots.

Smelling words, sniffing jots.

Tired? Never. Restless? Yes sir.

Can’t put down the dream today I don’t think this dream will go away.

Got no reason for my belief except to say I’ve grown the seed.

What can be said about passion like this – a longing a turning an obsessive fit?

Oh not too much, except what they say – a passionate man can be so unsafe.

That living obsession and fuming too much and striving too hard and churning and such,

Can lead to madness, all scrambled thoughts. Can leave you with nothing but the knowledge you’ve lost.

But oh what to do! I cry but a tear! For it’s not my fault I’m a writer, those words brought me here!

– Thomas M. Watt

Now See the Crown

Image

On the ground looking down endless sounds of silence abound,

Feel afraid worry’s craze mess of thoughts like dreams un-made.

Breath is weak,

heart is heavy,

craving big,

loss is steady.

Turning left, turning right, neither way presents much sight,

Look above, see that dove? the soft warm white of looking dumb?

Think again my childish friend, see it harder the way is smarter.

Reach out, pick yourself up, jump again and feel that flood –

Of hope not drowned, of ways soon found, a road to go where you’ll be crowned.

Walk that path, strut that shit, bounce that chin and act legit.

Behave, your ready, no more kidding, this road’s the one where you beat many.

– Thomas M. Watt