Call to Arms

There is nothing quite like the emptiness

Of a poet’s mind and heart

Staring at this blank piece of paper

With an even blanker mind

The heart numb

The spirit still

And though my heart and soul and will

Long for a deep expression

The minutiae of the day

Have drained it all away

Is this really any way to live?

Is this really any way to live at all?

A whim, an act, a curtain call

Then a glass of wine to wash the day away?

Listless sleep, a restless slumber

Then the agonizing buzz of a raucous alarm

The same damn time, the same damn number

To announce it is time to pretend again

Is this any way to live?

Is this really any way to live at all?

Is this even really living at all

Or is it merely cheap gyrations?

In the midst of all these frustrations

There’s nothing quite like the emptiness

So I, determined, pick up this pen

This is my sword

This is my dagger

And with the glory of a warrior’s swagger

I will stick it as deep into this slumber as I can

 

Just to understand what life and love can be.