Poetic Surgery

It is not the scalpel But words That pieces the psyche Not blood Dripping from the perforated skin But joy, sorrow, love… Flowing from the river of eternity I am a poetic surgeon And every bit of my being is submerged in spirit It's not unusual to dissect through the thick skull of poetry And open the can of mystery It is common to leave poets alone In their theatre of madness But yet again, poets are tributaries Leading into the sea of our collective consciousness In my operation room Silence is music And Love is the outcome Cutting deep into the fabric of consciousness Life is remodelled and the spirit is freed The well of happiness is punctured And joy flows unhindered Sometimes it's the tears that have to flow To wash away the pain And reinvigorate the mind It's an honour to touch your spirit And see you laugh (sometimes cry) It's not uncommon to dig deep Into the heart of poetry And find the truth The truth hurts But yet again it will set you free ©