Becoming a Poem

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As an artist I will admit there were unfortunate moments in my intensity, when

crippling insecurities left me limp and passion-free. When I’m busy doing

something I love, there was progress to my spirit. Keeping busy always

put me in a better mood. I am many, but not always the fairest to gaze upon,

my smoldering aura embodied the holy, unholy and the human form; 

I confess I’ve opened my exalted head and body to Pablo Picasso who

perceived me in strange and abstract  ways; and there were times when

I’ve summoned the most evil, known as Satan for a few hot unholy days,

then joined Moses  and the Greatest Mother of them all, until I tired of

their perpetual sermons, on the hills, if I recall;

three watery graves once called out to me, I offered John, Jr. a Water Lillie,

as well as his wife, Caroline and her sister, too, lastly with an urge to breed,

I began following John Travolta around; when his quivering  wings

reminded me of a night spent in the arms of the angel Michael,

I offered him a Lilac Blossom plucked from my own bosom…

laughed and kissed him long and hard,

becoming this poem for you!

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