Poets Last

Every poem feels like the last
Birthed from a man
Who lives inside myself

Attached like an appendage
A partially integrated soul
Recording abstractions
From an artist being made whole

Seeing and feeling
Giving the ordinary meaning
A parasite giving life
To the host he occupies
Searching for truth
Where lies abide

Once given voice
He looks for affirmation
While claiming dissent
Through poetic imaginations

A seer without a brush
Using language to create a hush
From guts moved by words
Be they sublime or absurd

Until silence falls
On this poet
One day
No longer heard