New Poetry

I live my life in happy mediums
My paint and pen transcend any reasoning your science has founded
I, The Artist, have a depth so deep it can't be reached through light years of space travel
And while you're solving probabilities
For the sake of some possibilities
I'm turning the typical 9 to 5 into 4 words:
I need to write.
Need to breathe life into words that would otherwise go unspoken
Need to recite the rhymes that might save the lives that only needed a few kind words to turn those frowns upside down
Turn those square perspectives round
You exist within those boxes
But me, The Artist?
I get out
And when I'm lost in the world
I can't be found
Not in your textbooks or your histories
Or your paradoxes or mysteries
I am as obvious as the light of day
Yet you still don't get me
Come plant your feet in the sands of my soul
Feel my spirit take over you like tidal waves
Let me tell you a story
Of Kush and Mansa and Eve
Michelangelo, Zeus
Let me be louder than deafening silence
Darker than nights without stars
Let me live in your subconscious
And surface only when you're asleep
The only way you can reach me
Baby girl, is in your dreams
My ink is rich as eel oil
My canvas is as wide as the world
You can't rinse me or outrun me
It might not make sense
Because you're thinking too hard
Always becoming, creating, reinventing, getting fine like wine and remaining classic like a picture of your grandma in black and white
All these things simultaneously
that's me
The one with the wisdom beyond her years
The one with charcoil on her cheeks, in place of tears
I am the one who built pyramids from the sweat off my back
I am dance and song and shout and thunder and clap
I am language and love and abstract and subjective
I am opinion and trivial and petty and free
I am as endless, unpredictable and timeless as the sea
Bohemian goddess of light and wonder
Let me be your horizon
Bright
I am the Artist
Starving, thirsting
And I need to write