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The coldness of the working tomb
The warmth of an artist’s womb
Oh to have the time and room
Where once again we can bloom

As the days go by
The thoughts do fly
And I sit there gently pondering
I am unique
A new name I seek
I think I’ll call it Johndering

Painting the universe in your mind
You really want to play
Release the tension
Into another dimension
You’re only a brush stroke away

Any port in a mind-storm
From the rocky to the smooth
Whatever it takes
Pull out all the stakes
And get us back to the groove

I use these rhymes to kill the time
From the ridiculous to the sublime
Holding myself back
Puts me out of whack
And seems like a hell of a crime

Coffee; the nectar of the Gods
A libation of the Muse.
Talent grows, happiness goes
Where the Bean’s wine flows

I ask the questions that have no answer
I spin around like a modern dancer
To abstract is divine
All I ask is the time
To crush ”the boring” like a German panzer

Money + Talent
-------------------- x Passion = Creativity Quotient
Time (non-art)

We have a theory for everything
Including your CQ
How do you cope
Under the microscope
When everything’s askew

Reality must have an arc
Decided Charlie on a lark
Fire all the writers
They’re a bunch of blighters
This gig has jumped the shark

Prose spews forth
Defending my sanity
Use it or lose it
Cries my zombie brain

Work nights are too short
Work days are too long
How can I finish my song
For my psyche I fear
Toward the weekend I steer
Maybe another hit on the bong?

Thank you for the readings
Of my brain’s bleedings
As they push and pull the words
I try to keep them together
In all kinds of weather
But they flap and fly like birds

The artist is out of his element -
If no one cares about Meaning
If no one asks the Big questions
If no one is sensitive to his own Is-ness
If no one appreciates the Joy of Creation
~ The artist must be his own fire

There once was paper and a pencil too
They loved the artist through and through
He goes into a trance
And he makes us dance
Just look what we’re able to do !

Thinking blindly is a skill
That can have a big effect
Sometimes it’s rough
Watch out for stuff
Or you’ll fall over your own intellect

To bring something into being that didn’t exist before
is the supreme act of a creative mind.
Reaching out with its own reality,
shining in all its polished, multicolored splendor

Someone’s jerking my strings, he said with a sting
I’m a puppet that needs to sing.
I want to be free
I’ve got to be me
And he instantly birthed five new things

To spend our time before we get it
is to be consumed by passion -
breathing life into our work-weary souls;
a lifeline to our real world.