chris dawson

The Artist - Poem by chris dawson

Where’s the next Cecil b DeMille
where do I the artist find
creative intuition and
the astute perceptive mind
Am I to be like some before
ignored until I perish
passed over save for poverty
in death my life they cherish
My demise will open eyes
posthumously regaled
whilst during life I endure strife
on manhood I’m impaled.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, March 1, 2009

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