Social Voice Commentary Poems at Dawn

The following,

Is what flows at dawn, upon waking as the sun is yet low under the brimming mountain shadows, where it hides, lingering in wait for a moment when the pressing algorithm of eternity's cycle protests the light from it's realm of strangely dim island of invisible hope.

Write, yes, right! Whatever type of artist you find yourself to be, what you project via the creativity that resides within, find that expounding image, however grand or minute, and take courage that the work you are and have made, is... Is more than simply, as some people might say, 'just art.'

It is you upon a stage, hidden in the closet of your room or trapped inside your head, yet awaiting a medium to expand out from yourself upon paper, canvas or instrument and entreat upon the rest of humanity the great gift that births forth from within you.

Greed and fame are not the ways of creativity, though they may be thrown upon the titles of 'art' and other such labels, I say, create, simply because it is who you are, it is what you enjoy or possibly it is because of the great conviction that lies within, impeaching your very existence to create on behalf of those who have yet to rise.

Live off,

Faltering wire diagnosis side tap step the hallowed vale of lies condemning holocaust profit castle Narnia Earth as the terrestrial synopsis orchestra crescendo arrangement of guilt conceding help to war the prostitute of prophet named Avarice Queen of the Russian quarantine block army invading roulette shell casings shock citizen's ashen dust breathe from swollen tension chests!

In earnest anticipation of,