The Little Things

Sometimes,

      It is better to let be what you have written, as a short malady of words that crescendo into the mind, then the heart and finally the conscious soul of your readers. Let the little things be. For there is oft more magnificence to be found in a brief line than in a poem of infinite stanza(s).

     Standing at the blurred,

      No faithful to hopeless finger lifted in attention; Edge of apocalypse tomorrow, Where the reset of karma's soul caste poverty reincarnation system is blessed by every mythical god's well bloody crimson oil stained red right single digit raised fist!

      The time for equality on our sandcastle hell avarice swollen earth, is at hand...

      Which was posted today, a simple little trick of the vernacular hat poem, that might mean something to someone... Or it may not.

Only a handful,

     Of oaths ever make it... But the disavowed still retain their amnesty towards hope...

     So when toiling under threat of silence in response to your work away, write only what is necessary, nothing more nothing less, as it pours out from compassion's empathetic imagination engine within! But that imp-perfect line, can't be taught, learned or drawn, not really... It can only be discovered in context of the moment as you deem fit.

     For as the art immunization theory states that only you define your art, and therein lies the fluctuating algorithm of assurance, the courage to stand in what you craft.

In earnest anticipation of,