Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the full moon whispers through the trees
the words come out at night
I reach for a pen or a black ocean

the gypsies dance in the moonlight
history closes its dilapidated book cover
nothing between its pages
that was said and what was left unsaid

this is where the poetry begins...
the poet walks down tree lined lanes
of antiquity

dreams wander the temple ruins
we are the stuff of nightmares
history is its name

a poet is a figment of your imagination
we exist in a moment somewhere in 1971
or two, I open the book of poems
and I am gone in the wave of graves

Where history closes its dilapidated covers is where poetry begins (and not all those paid artists)..

History is written by the victor, in other words they make it up as they go along, so something happened at the beginning of recorded history, some of it gets through, mythology is based on things that really happened. Cave paintings were not just addled grunts but were telling us about star systems and done very eloquent and connected to nature, why did the academics lie about it., Now enter the poets.

Connection to nature is almost gone and walled off, at least officially, but an undercurrent is always there..