Let the show begin

I have been published on a website that feeds the eyes...with shallow news about people who are diminished into cardboard cutouts, empty figures...constantly under critical review.

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Judgements based upon sight can only see illusions made of light.

Poetry is my passion, Melody is my mode, and rhythm is the hypnosis through which I plan to control...all the senses.

I want my music to dance in your ears, spiral into your mind, bring you back to a moment in time.

I want you to taste my conviction, as I will feed no fiction.

I want you to feel the bass knockin' on your body, seeking entrance into your soul.

I want the aroma of my lyrics to mystify your atmosphere

And if I have to catch your eye, first through sight, in order to reach all of your senses...

Let the show begin.

This is not a poem, this is a warning.

Uncertainty is looming in the distance; I know it because it taunts me. 
Optimism whispers positive manifestation in my ear, 
yet I can't resist to flirt with my doubts. 


On the surface I am cracking, only slightly...
my condition is still repairable.  
However, it's up to me to get fixed before I crumble. 
"Get it together" my conscience resonates 
as my physical state remains motionless.


Why do I procrastinate when it comes to my fate? 
 I know what I have to do.  
No praying to the Gods, or begging to my peers will get me going. 
 I need to find the momentum within myself.