Foolish Poet You Are

You gave me broad wisdom to what is undiscovered

inspired me to see as what they shouldn't be

you made me a close-mind to interest the obvious

You let me complicate things to make it an abstract

Devoured the tasteless unpalatable words

Yet, I conjured a devilish intimacy to words, 

no one has ever tried.

I have become your minion to your tongue

You have fallen down, guise in a new wardrobe of love

I know you wouldn't feel anything, for you are easy

Fooled by the voice of a non-poet.

Now I'll wait for you to understand the complexity

No one understood for years, but you have taught me.

You will not understand the truth of these words

For I have stolen your words,

For you know nothing, merely love's sake.

For you are weak, dreaded by the tears of a voiceless

Screaming his throat to a quack intimacy

Who nonetheless resonates a fool.

I'll wait for you to ask for those words

For art is never stolen, until copied by someone great

You tried to write, but it's awkward, naive, and vain

You try to put dittos to unrelenting destruction

And you never created art, your art is foolishly

stained.

Reviews

[R J Askew]

The title drew me to this. Is it a self-debate with your talent? a discourse of frustration over the fickleness of the muse? I esp like the last verse and the last line. I am also shocked that no one has read this. Ach, I may have misread the theme looking at the tags you have put on it.

[Rc R. Vagilidad]

Cheers, master. :) thanks, sorry for being so inactive here and didnt reply the soonest :)