Where Art Lies

Poetry has to come from the heart

Poetry has to come in a flash

How can you make poetry

if you choose poetry as a task

How can you make art

If you see it as a fact

That you can write a novel

and forget to ask

What it means to make a story

When all that's left is you

How a story can be anything

if you let your heart be true

How can you make a painting

if all you see are colors

Wading in a canvas

like fibonacci numbers

How can you make a movie

etched into three acts

When you could have used your life

and followed its own path

How can you make a sculpture

if all you want is stone

If you just made your fantasies

you'd feel less alone

As art strikes the bold

it shows thyself true too

It opens up the flood gates

and closes what is new

They look for Art in places

places they can't find

Anytime one searches

they'll leave themselves behind

Within the sinews of sorrow

Art urges what is True

It finds the depths within us

even if its blue

Art tells a story

A story we can't hide

It's hiding under shadows

shadows that replied

we will not be silenced,

nor held in your confines

nor warped nor twisted and painted anew, to create something contrived

We will not unravel our skin — an effort to be revived

or portray a perfect core

we'd rather be designed

Those who know us — know us well

know that

Our ugliness is matched

by our hereditary divine

We're perfectly imperfect

something you can't find

Swimming in a dream

on the underside of time

Within a bright sun's open face

A pretty cheerleader's eyes

Our brilliance precedes us

Then acts as our own guise

We know that we will live forever

but die when it is time

Our spirit persists progression

for it lives on its own rhyme

We are stubborn in our graciousness, and dumber than a mime

enough to know its true-

We are the antithesis of righteousness

The poetry of science

Choose what we will be

and you will choke on your prescience

We breath by ebbs and flows

you seek the path that shows

The winding road perpetuates

only horizons, ready to be known

In the island with no consistency

you see fate on your tombstone

Your stranded

but now the moon is shown

What's wrong is often forgotten

in a sea of perfection's lies

The world could be everything

if we embraced our own disguise

See anything is art

if you let your heart be true

Anything can happen

if you let your you be you