Dear Prisoner

Creation :

The enemy

Of procrastination.

The energy

Of imagination.

And, yet,

Every

Word

Is scrubbed away.

Let’s

Call this

Process

Sanitation …

Creative Castration,

The bull that is brazen,

A slave to the

Same,

Feigned

Story

Day after day, and

Your dreams of escape.

“Release me from this fate.

Dear Lord,

It’s too hard to take.”

But wait …

What about the

Emancipation

Proclamation?

Where’s your

Faith

In your own

Greatness?

You can’t fake this

Or spend your life

Chasin’

The next trendy

Innovation.

Where’s your

Motivation?

It’s simply really.

It’s in your heart space,

Not your head.

Without either,

You’re dead.

With both,

You’re ahead

Of the game,

Not the same

Old, same old

“Fleeting

Inspiration”

You see

Time and time

Again.

Repetition

Feels insane.

But the mind is but

A tool …

And sometimes just

A fool.

If you use it like

A school,

Or scoop knowledge from

A slimy, grimy, tiny little pool,

You’ll start to feel small

And stop yourself in the hall.

“Where’s your hall pass?"

I mean, seriously!

Didn’t I ask you that

Last week?”

Zero access.

Only classes

Fed to you

By the masses,

Sitting

On their asses

Til you die

In your casket.

Your mind is

Racing with tasks,

“Trying”

To get back

To a place of

Creation.

But the mind is but

A tool.

Your’s is compulsive,

Mental masturbation.

The solution is simple

But I need your

Participation,

Not the mask

You like to use

For masqueradin’ …

Presence isn’t about

Taking everything out.

That process is called

Evisceration.

Let it be …

You’re bound to see

Anatomy is a

Fallacy

And a place

So profound

It sounds like

Alchemy.

So count on

“Me”

To block your way

And block your dreams.

Just let it “be”

And you’ll crack the maze.

Seems like days

Since this creation

Was placed in

My hands …

Since I first gazed

At its cadence

And started to

Dance.

It’s all about

Your interpretation

And appreciation

Of the stories behind

Your own manifestation.

Sweet, sweet liberation

And a deep meditation

Is the only vacation

I need for salvation.

Let these moments

Live forever,

Never lost

In translation.

Creations are simple,

Though we may award

Sophistication.

Free yourself

From these bonds.

I swear to God,

If I have to climb

Olympic Mons

And build a spaceship

Just like Han’s,

Who the fuck cares

If I “just” win bronze?