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.