This is nine separate poems comprising one poem, each and all on the theme of the muse mercilessly striking in the middle of the night with irrepressible inspiration from God knows where.<\/p>\n
God bid me<\/strong> He slept<\/strong> Apprehending<\/strong> In the mettle of the night<\/strong> He said “YES”<\/strong> The muse strikes<\/strong> My hand rights<\/strong> Amid night rambler<\/strong> The wrest of the night<\/strong> I wrote these nine poems one night over the course of a bout two hours.\u00a0 The singular theme of a poet’s helpless relationship with a muse was not designed by me but a mirror reflection of this relationship.\u00a0 My futile resistance was to know a veil, and pun in hand, I consider this my formal certification as gloriously disabled.\u00a0 With the sole of a poet, flat on my back, I have long a go matriculated to the knead to get up and answer the muses booty call.\u00a0 It is simply the write thing too due!\u00a0 Sow, a light bulb goes on, and as pen is in hand, what comes is worthy of the papers.\u00a0 A lass, what may be fodder to some is a parent only too me in sharing presence of what is awe to gather hours.\u00a0 May you find yourself a basket-case of poetry like a sickness and a cure to gather.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" This is nine separate poems comprising one poem, each and all on the theme of the muse mercilessly striking in the middle of the night with irrepressible inspiration from God knows where. God bid me Higher than I Was willing … Continue reading
\nHigher than I<\/strong>
\nWas willing to go<\/strong>
\nOnly to in<\/strong>
\nForm me<\/strong>
\nOf whys infirm a meant<\/strong>
\nThat I am<\/strong>
\nAll ready<\/strong>
\nHear<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nInto conversation<\/strong>
\nWith that God of dreams<\/strong>
\nWhere I’s are not necessary<\/strong>
\nOnly more acute<\/strong>
\nAnd in their wake<\/strong>
\nBrake loose<\/strong>
\nCountless dawns<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nI am<\/strong>
\nA kept man<\/strong>
\nIn my place<\/strong>
\nBeyond my own<\/strong>
\nYet as if<\/strong>
\nMore than<\/strong>
\nA game<\/strong>
\nPlaying only<\/strong>
\nFor keeps<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nGod has a Lot to say<\/strong>
\nIn that language of silence<\/strong>
\nA partner<\/strong>
\nWorth more than<\/strong>
\nOne’s salt<\/strong>
\nNever looking back<\/strong>
\nIn a God so forward<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nTo harvest time<\/strong>
\nIn the land of nod<\/strong>
\nWhere more dreams are forgotten<\/strong>
\nThan anyone could ever “no”<\/strong>
\nThose fated few under<\/strong>
\nA night’s protection<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nBeyond mirror daze<\/strong>
\nIn the we ours of the night<\/strong>
\nWhere there is know work<\/strong>
\nAnd never clothing for busyness<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nAnd awe that is mine<\/strong>
\nMirrorly follows<\/strong>
\nGiving<\/strong>
\nOne<\/strong>
\nA pause<\/strong>
\nWord<\/strong>
\nWithout sound<\/strong>
\nOf won hand<\/strong>
\nClapping<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nBeyond what is still<\/strong>
\nDrunk in slurs<\/strong>
\nOf lucid dreams<\/strong>
\nNever to be penned<\/strong>
\nAnd in mourning will<\/strong>
\nBe for gotten<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nIs yours<\/strong>
\nThe muse supined<\/strong>
\nAnd you knead not worry<\/strong>
\nI will take care<\/strong>
\nOf hour many<\/strong>
\nFine appointments<\/strong><\/p>\n