Tale Of The Inker | Martins Deep

Tale Of The Inker

Words:

How they fondled your stitched heart

messing up your beautiful mind like public toilets

Unapologetically drawing water from the forbidden wells of your eyes

split generously on pages that never belched!

Words:

They cut deep like razors

watching you bleed

With a balm to heal the wounds with just a line shrouded in riddles.

Words:

They made you lust for adventures beyond the cliched breasts of mother earth

You looked at the stars a debtor

that owed tales of travels to earthlings.

Words:

They turned pot holes to oil wells

Grey and ash flocked gloriously with Ophir gold and sapphire

They tickled the wings in your soul you never knew cried to soar you

Kings grew lustful

and made courtiers of the weavers of words

keeping them like silk worms

for royal robes.

Subtly, desire fell a seed on the good ground of your heart

You eyed the pen

Like an envious general the sceptre of a boy king.

Words. Only you heard the whisper

that called your name that night

your feet dancing to the musical silence

that called you to places

to hatch a dream never known was heaven's

Nature gave you a paintbrush and a canvass

asking you to paint her nude.

Words; Your magic!

Ink was the cheapest potion

to conjure a seance with the old familiar faces of lost yesteryear,

moon walk in time,

and live lavishly in the future with ease by treasures stolen from the

troves of regret and pain

You were blown away

You flew your light spirit to the realms of light

for scrolls Understanding gives.

Here you are on the circle of your world

beholding as a lord

the plains of the soul

where your creations live the you

too vast for a lifetime to be lived.

- Martins Deep

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