Shut up Songbird

I’ve stayed for too long
my voice is turning harsh and unforgiving.
My words don’t sound like songs anymore.
I should know better by now, after all this time,
but I couldn’t let go when the melody caught me.

I’ve stayed for too long
I can’t believe my head isn’t empty yet.
The trouble with constantly creating,
within my head or on paper slash keyboard,
is how to not.

I’ve stayed for too long
my voice is drained of all it’s juices.
I shouldn’t utter another word but
I keep singing, humming, pretending that’s not
doing any damage.

I’ve stayed for too long
the same way I always have and
probably always will.
Selfdestructive actions are,
after all,
what being an artist is all about?

Shut up, songbird.

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Too late

I should have been
further away from this
able to end that road
and let it all go.

I should have been
ready to tell you how
this would then have to be
and not let it grow.

I should have been
away from that world by now
finding a different place
and over the wait.

I should have been
but I don´t know how to
not be around and here
and now it´s too late.

(a Poem a Day) -turn-

I know the way to face
find the perfect angle
draw up the most beautiful
version of
everything. (Or what it is.)
Hold the thought
breathe it in
and let it slowly fade.
Then turn.
New idea,
fresh start
pensil traces thin lines
on empty sheets of white
or even
golden on black.
Then turn.
Moving faster now,
finding what I need before I
start looking.
Turn.