Blood From My Pen

Blood From My Pen                      September 18, 2008

Failing to travel along major arteries.

Wasting away in a vein.

Never learned to jump off a bridge

Or to live on the wing of a prayer.

I guess I'm just sitting here, going insane,

Spreading my truth around

With blood from my pen.

 

Waves crashing through the furling storm

Against jagged rocks along an aging shore.

Talking heads placate to the sins

Our forefathers bequeathed to us again and again,

And I'm left to wonder and write of some truths

That no other ink will speak truer to

Then the blood from my pen, my heaven above.

 

A sharp pain runs through this soul.

It never gives up and it only gets old.

The eyes have seen much,

If not in splendor, then by the dull tip,

To abash and not to heal, one can never tell.

The only cure there seems to be

Is when I strike blood to paper from my pen.

The only way to let the tiger out

Is to bleed on paper, letting fright fly free.