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Submitted on
March 31, 2011
File Size
2.4 KB


15 (who?)
A blank page is the stillbirth of an idea
The abortion of creative thought,
Ripped lifeless and still from the womb of expression

A lost life is immoral,
Shunned by the eyes of the world
By the eyes of god

A lost idea is just the same,
Crumpled up inside a piece of paper
Abandoned, forgotten, thrown away
Left to die

Etched upon the alabaster skin
A testament is written

That no thought should die without purpose
Without a destiny
Without a steady hand to guide it

All ideas are born,
Planted in a garden of creativity
Cultivated in the small blip of time that is their existence
Like flowers, they blossom when encouraged with a bit of water and sunlight

Without encouragement, they wilt and eventually wither away
Turning to dust
To think, that all poets give birth to self-expression
Through a few words strung together
Forming a unique necklace that is to be worn and heard by the world

Seen through a window, in a slam
Shining like a distant star against the velvety blackness of the heavens

A lost idea wanders aimlessly across the desert of the mind, without direction or destiny
To guide it
With no oasis to parch its thirst for actuality
No master by which to make its meaning clear

A lost idea,
The unmarked grave buried with a thousand other discarded thoughts

Flotsam, remnants, leftovers, scraps,
Useless garbage!
The artist exclaims,
In a single stroke the idea is struck down with savage ferocity

A small tap upon the shoulder, and a whisper
The Muses intervene

"No, no. You're not doing it right."
They say in unison,
"It should be more like this."
Like the chorus to a jazz song, the Muses snap their fingers
The idea is brought back from the brink of the salvage yard
From the rusted mountain of battered car parts, broken televisions, dented pans

Reformed, over and over
Until it emerges from its cocoon
"I have it!"
The artist cries

Written in the smallest margin of the paper,
Not by his hands, but theirs
Are the words:
The manifesto
What started out a mere scribble on the back of a drawing during art class became much more after I added a bit more to first stanza. I'm not much of a drawer, and I never have been. I had been asked to sketch a still life, and faced with a bout of overwhelming frustration, I wrote down my feelings in the form of a visual poem. Originally, this was the first line of that poem but I scrapped it for another and added it here. A long story short, a little messing around led to this piece.
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DarkestCornersLIT Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
hi there
you've been featured in our newest issue of Darkest Corners Lit - Spiritual Poetry
please :+favlove: the article to help us spread the word around :hug:
adventwinter Featured By Owner Apr 12, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
I'm like, wow...
saevuswinds Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2011  Student Writer
I love this!
Kryptic66 Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
:bow: Thank you, I hope to have the condensed version up soon.
saevuswinds Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2011  Student Writer
Coreastos Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2011   Artist
i only wish I was half as good as u Krypt X3
Kryptic66 Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
Oh, you have your own unique style. And, I'm not too sure about that. I'm certain lurking deep within you lies your inner poet. You just have to know how to unleash him.
Coreastos Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2011   Artist
haha thanks :D i know its somewhere in there too :P
Gingers-PL Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
I like it so much! :+favlove:!
Tygrezz Featured By Owner Mar 31, 2011  Student Writer
I love it and it is sooooo true. And your drawings aren't that bad.
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