"Mission Statement: Society Of Poets"

"Mission Statement: Society Of Poets"

Found love in a rhapsody.
Everything I would become
Laid its groundwork after me.
Might have been more than love.
It think it was life, actually.
It shaped how I approach things
And rearranged my faculties.
No one can take that from me.

Found love in a rhythm.
A rite of passage.
Not just a routine,
Ritual or rhyme scheme.
Every path will be different;
Even if we share the same dream.
I learned that one incurs limits
By just focusing on the theme;
So I look for substance instead
Because if status clouds your head,
You won't remember what you've said.
Your words are better off dead;
Stretched wide across ridiculous themes
Crucified by unnecessary limits
That have openly chocked your dreams.
A path of gimmicks is never different.
The same ritual and rhyme scheme
That fell victim to some routine.
Invoke your own rite of passage.
Love the rhythm in your means.

I'm good if few know me.
I'm so far from Phenom
And much closer to mystery;
So I'll be the enigma.
Can't trace my steps.
Can't recognize my signature.
I've observed how overexposure
Can be a damning expenditure.

I buffer light when I write.
It's on display all day
And it glows so bright at night.
I've yet to lose my way.
Words I've yet to write,
Things I've yet to say,
Soldier willing to fight
For those willing to pray
On behalf of the many
That some see as the few:
Those who ran out of paper
For the picture that they drew,
Grief stricken with labor
Desperately hoping for something new,
Bloodshot eyes that cry
When their thoughts cannot be processed,
I write love in lieu of them.
I'm dedicated. I might be obsessed.

You can't take this from me.
There's some levity in my faculties.
I've learned how to approach life.
I give it back actually.
This is my labor of love:
Groundwork that thrives after me.
You never know what you'll become
Until you find love in a rhapsody.

Whether salty tears are savored
Or you tend to smile and grin,
Never throw away your paper
And don't dare abuse your pen.

Protect and promote your craft.
Take pride in how you show it.
Denounce the crass for working class.
Create a Society Of Poets.

Written by: Devin Joseph Metz