Dare To Dream Poem by James Darwin Smith II

Tedious banter upon wildest dreams
Unwritten notions strike seclusion
In the artist's realm
Collections collecting dust
Silent is worse than anything
Positive or even negative
To someone who bleeds
Out what they are passionate about
Becoming their own prisoner
Creating the most dreadful
Self-inflicted metaphoric crime scene
All from within their own inclusion
Upon where things are
In the eyes of idle devotion


Pain, so much pain
Nothing for so much hard work
But that makes the creator
Try even harder
For themselves and no one else


It is hard to not be like the most
But to be a conformist is suicide
No matter how agonizing things are
Strength always comes out
Upon the independence of a mind
That for which always thinks forward
Never once thinking behind
As the lone artist
Creates an eclectic collection
Of their own most inner deepest designs
With the crimson courage
Coursing through the veins of time


Pleasure, so much pleasure
For all the effort given
In this hard work


Making the creator love
What they do
No matter how unsuccessful things may be
They feel the success of expressing
Freely to their muse
Without ever making themselves
Their own worst enemy


To be lonely but brave
Is better than being loved and fake
Being humble always beats superficial
When an artist take a peek within themselves
All from deep within


If one loves what they do
No matter how supposedly unsuccessful they may be
Does that make them not as successful?
As those who hate what they do
Are loved by so many more people
As long as they stay in the confines
Of the masses dreams


And the populist
Is always too busy critiquing
All the others
While searching for perfection
Which of course
Never truly existed


So when it comes to the soul
Who are the most successful?



There is more substance with peasants
More so than there has ever been with Kings



In conclusion
Popularity is not always what it seems



Dare to Dream