Art

Well, I've been accused
of being
way too dramatic,
but the world I accuse
of being-
much too dogmatic,
I will leave it at that
I don't want no static,
don't want no arguments,
don't want to fight.
I only want and need
to write.
And my writing
has been said to be
quite crude,
I confess I've lived hard-
I'm no prude.
I've written of
prostitution, drinking
and other vice...
not all my poems
are very nice.
But I've also 
written of nature-
flowers and such,
it's just that art
requires
reality's touch.
And a seed of art
is suffering
the scope of all
that life does
bring...
Yes, pain is a twin
to art-
it stirs the soul
and inflames
the heart!

* This is one of my oldest poems easily going back some 28 years.
My style is still very much adolescent angst- full of choppy rhyme and
without finessee or maturity, but I've included it here to show how a writer
grows and hones their art with time; and to show the youngsters out there
the importance of persistance in their craft, that one goes through stages
in life, personally and as a poet.