Ode to the Bird, Inspiration

She came, crashing in through my barricades,
Burning words inside my mind
And unleashing, the dormant hand
Upon the open canvas, where I spilled
Her blood, pouring from out her veins
All that was there, beyond my blind touch
And then, she vanished into the sleeping willow
As I wait for her, to grace her wing
Upon my vacant brow,
And I’ll sit by the open windows
Bearing my heart, to the winds of her soar.

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©DorianPoe 2015

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We Are

We are motives for inspiration
Undiscovered in the looping record,
Milking the pen onto the open field,
We are creators amongst creation
Telling those who’d listen
A piece of truth, in the endless pitch,
Or fantasy, of hope falling to the ocean floor,
We are the minds of Insanity
Keeping watch at the gate,
The record keepers, for our Book
That each one of us contributes to,
Dive into the paper, pushing through words
Deleting the cycled story, keeping the integrity
Of who we are.