Me The Exhibit written by Don Knowles at Spillwords.com

Me The Exhibit

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Me the Exhibit

written by: Don Knowles

@DonKnowles3

 

Days all embellish me
Inside and out of my soulful oil paint of my being
wood cuts hung in the heart
Detailed like your fingerprint
Swirled with natures Precision slices
Now on my hands so worn are drawn
mehndi tattoo scared deep to spell the names
Titles of Ones I have called to at night
Lay longing to Watch leave at dawn
fractals of catacombs construct my cerebellum
Complex but inclined to non-absolute multipliers
Water colors fill my brown eyes dripping
Blinking the excesses down to tie dye
Tints spiraled in rainbows array my torso
As cast iron is poured and pounded
Formed Shapes to guard all my private bits
My spine now a herring bone to spit
Left over from some gods fiercely feasting
My veins a Giants guitar strings
Untuned and clanging notes
Their chords are my melody
As I armor myself with passing of the days
Scrimshaw to my bones and teeth
Recording of my great traverses
I am a traveling exhibit
I am the circus side show
But I will hang the advertising
The billets to the one man show
As mother weaves the silks of corn
Transforming me from demon to archangel cast back down to die
The click of each needles pass
Makes my tresses that much longer
As my ink is spilled and blotted out
Archiving the rest for posthumous biography
Each second forms me
Each minute changes
An hour of second takes of recollects
As days and years fill my studio walls
I am the only masterpiece without a worth
But no art is ever bought
It’s borrowed from the artists soul
Each philistine knows this tale
But as I lay here growing older
All filigree laces over me
To cover my fraying head in a prayer shaw
Shokeling I recite my memories
To me and those who paid admissions price
My days are embedded in me
Embroidered empathy
One stitch over then a loop
As I am embellished
I am
I am
My own gallery

 

NOTE:

Art by Andrew Salgado

Don Knowles

Don Knowles

My writing is typically written while I'm on a treadmill, so I call myself "the treadmill poet!"
Born in West Chester Pa in 1960 I have been inspired to begin writing again through my interactions with two people I care deeply about that are experiencing the torrents of mental illness.
Don Knowles

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