Write a Banned Book

Aspire to write a banned book
Describe the human condition
So thoroughly
So honestly
Others find if vulgar
Tell a story so devastatingly true
The pearl-clutchers swoon from their shock
Real life
Real experience
Is not sanitary
It is not "golly gee!" and "oh, my!"
Real stories
Real living
Is dirt covered
Blood stained
Disturbing
Realness is a dystopia covered in expletives and epithets
Characters spitting fiery words like
"FUCK!"
"SHIT!"
And "You God-damned, MOTHER FUCKER!"
While thumbing their noses and erecting middle fingers
In real stories the hero's journey is never facile
It's not sanitized or resolved in three acts
In real stories antagonists are
Insidious
Oppressive
Outrageously powerful
The game is rigged
Injustice systemic
The ruling class held aloft and apart
Tucked safely into their delusion of their goodness and security
Benefiting remorselessly from the oppression they enable
In contrast the rest of society scraps and scrapes
Dreaming of freedom unattainable
Reveling in whatever joys afforded them
Praying that they can meet the next hardship
Survive the next day
Provide a better future for their progeny
I implore you to write a story that reflects hope in survival
Pen a tale that may not have a happy ending
Hold a mirror up to the world in which we live
Let those who would look away
See their villainy reflected back at them
And let those who are not seen
Be held glorious in the spotlight
Because their existence matters
I hope you write a disruptive book
An honest book
A book full of the truths of living in an unbalanced world
I hope you see it move from the bestseller feature table
To the dusty banned books shelf
Then you will know you understood the assignment

-gws

Creation

My soul vibrates
Longing to be a conduit for creation
The spark burns high and hot
My hands long to be covered in
Ink
Paint
Pastels
To fill blank pages with worlds
That only exist in the nebula inside me
Demanding to birth a thousand stars
Urgent and consuming
I long to surrender to the deflagration
Of creative energy
Igniting a conflagration
Leaving me empty and sated
Surrounded by pages filled with words
Dipped in vivid colors and
Complex textures
Tangible, living pieces of me
Like so many falling leaves in autumn

-gws

How Poems Are Like Orgasms

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Poems begin with desire 
Deep and persistent
Feverish and demanding
They demand attention
Needful hungry things
Finicky in how they want to be handled
Not touched by just any words
They must be the RIGHT words
Poems demand intimate connection
Crave it
Require it
They require time to build
A sacred dance between poet and pen
The stimulation of mind and soul
Identification and reflection of the human experience
Poems must touch the most intimate parts of us
Where human and universe converge
Grasping and pulling feelings to the surface
Until the soul explodes in prismatic truths
Leaving the skin erupted in goosebumps
Pupils dilated and breath quickened
The soul's hunger satisfied
Poems demand nothing less

-gws

Artist Moon

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The artist moon is calling
The one that makes the blood restless
And the mind discontent
The one that replaces sleep
With lightning storms of inspiration
The moon raises the spirit of dreams unrealized
And fantasies unlived
It whispers of wild woods and scented winds
Of primal needs and elaborate, lucid dreams
I am held captive in the moon's tides
Ebbing and flowing as I map my own constellations in its sky
And so my mind churns
My pen moves
Channeling the lightning into art
Painting the moon's energy with barely adequate words
In a desperate attempt to contain the results of its demanding influence

-gws

The New Notebook

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I am invited by these blank pages

to bear into the light

the secrets of my soul

my night visions and wild imaginings

fantastical whimsies

and deepest truths

born onto these waiting lines

magic erupting from my soul’s well

each babbling bubble brimming

with something eager to be fixed to paper

transfigured from infinite potential

into eternalized reality

a golem of ink and words

let loose to walk unknown paths along others’ souls

leaving quiet footsteps which will fade

like water on concrete after a rain

my eyes follow the pen strokes

they are rhythmic like the rising

and falling of meditative breath made manifest

casting a spell of freedom and release

-gws

Word Therapy

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Poetry is my word therapy

It is where I take the overwhelming abstractness of my emotions

And mold it into something comprehensible

Taking the feelings inside

And creating a scaffolding made of words on which to hang

Stanzas containing descriptions, analogies, and written visualizations

I am able to take what is chaotic and undefined

And give it structure and meaning

Like a potter transforms a formless lump of clay

Into a beautiful piece of finished pottery

A manipulation born of skill, practice, and talent

Which creates a piece that describes, conveys, and evokes

The essence of the soul on fire

-gws

Transmutation

I spill ink in controlled rivulets across an unstained page, setting down with curves and flourishes the tangled, unintelligible, intangible emotional illiteracies of my mind now transmuted into words and phrases, provoked into life, and now chained irrevocably into place by pen, hand, and mind.

-gws