Apex to apex 2

by Christos Polydorou

Draft two:
2017-06-08 10.55.42

It is not enough to be alive,
to live life,
you have to believe in it,

apparently, and watch parts of you
being ground, like coffee beans in the
grinder of a barrista,

as you state your beliefs,
in conversations,
or in poems you post online.

Do you deserve more
because you know what more
looks like? What I mean is,

if you had not seen the marble sculptures
of erogenous Olympic bodies splayed above you
in museums in London and New York,

would you be so crushed by the ambition,
the desire,
would you ever be so dragooned

by art
itself
to keep making it

until you come up with
a sculpture
like that of Michelangelo?

Despair!
Artists pull out their hair,
or paint it turquoise blue,

your choice. Take
a step
back.

Take
your own
advice.

When I take a step back
and look at myself,
literally writing a completed piece

on a daily basis,
I think to myself,
What am I really writing about?

The answer is nothing,
except everything
with each word

and each space
in between.
Like Old World sparrows

perched on the branches of a dead young tree
covered in ivy,
balancing whilst looking

at swarms of bees rising out the
gardens and the trees
of the bit of nature

I am observing from the fourth floor
where my bedroom window is
where I sit, writing,

feeling pity for Hollywood.
2017-06-08 10.55.49

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