Friday, September 24, 2021

Poem: "Muse" by Alan Lisanti

by Alan Lisanti, 2017

Hold me up
Hold me up to the flames
The pain is empty and powerless
And grips the wheel
Rotted wood creeks in her hands
But she's drunk with power like a renegade pirate aboard this aircraft she gave wings
Pilot of the wingless
Both medicine and curator of chaos and of suffering
Sails patched with courage where torn void used to be
Glue for shattered pieces
I have forged creativity
When her signals all had faded
I nearly abandoned my love and lunacy
Give and take of artists
Both magicians and thieves
Paradox of poison and miraculous remedies
Not for her, I'd never know of love
Never know of bleeding everything
And if not for music
I could never be sustained
She always showed up for harsh realities of souls like me who chase their dreams
She put me back together
So there's a purpose for my grief
But sooner much sooner than later
Heroes become the villains
Triumphs devolve into tragedies
And I'm carving motivations from a tree of disbelief
Like a beatnik with my suitcase stuffed with all these could have beens
Busking for the glory of purpose
Like closing credits
Fill the scene
With songs for all the drifters
I purge my agonies
At least I have a reason
Meaning instilled in words I speak
Maiden of my heart
Keeper of the keys
I find myself inspired by the lovely ones that leave
I find my art surviving in the stillness of the breeze
Upon the wings of Phoenix
Ashes and debris
Some call it liberation
When suffocation needs to breathe love
Look what you've done to me
Turning this tail chaser into lively now and free

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