Muse

So, you know how I was talking about that poem I wrote about the goddess Muse, well, here it is. I got the idea from the opening lines of The Odyssey. He is asking Muse to tell a story, and suddenly, I am thinking "What must it be like for Muse?" And, using my Motif of life as a world of hunger, I wrote a poem about people stealing from Muse, and how the power of poetry has been lost, becuase so many people are writing it now, that like, really suck. And how it is becuase they are stealing from Muse. Which is very strange, since I am not a "Profound Man", so I am pretty much talking about how much Muse must hate people like me. Fuck it.


The Ballad of Muse

I am the Muse
They all will drink from me
Learn from me, of Trials and Tests
And all the beauty of the Sea
They hear if Follies, Guilt of love
And Sin
I whisper to them, secrets in the Wind
They empty me of Pleasure
And of Love
Steal Thoughts that slip around them
Like a glove
They kill my Eyes and Soul
And steal my Words
I life them up
Turn them from Stones to Birds
And yet they leave me
When all my Heart is spent
When they have drunk from me
And all their Tears are wept
They found me out, and I cannot escape
The Torch is lit
I can no longer wait
For Profound Men
With lovely, sharpened minds
For Ordinary Men know not
That I’m not theirs to find