Poetry by Sam Burks

Big Picture, Little Eyes

Who knows
what this all means
As I stand
with my nose
pressed against
the texterized
of humanity
at it’s most vibrant
Among the swirls of paint
both cold and warm
I try relentlessly
and hopelessly
to appreciate the beauty
from such a close range
And I see the sun
as a pin-point dot
in the collage
of information
rapidly becoming
more intricate
as the various
subplots in the heart
of my mind
Oh, how i wish
I was the artist
painting this design

You may reach Sam Burks at srburks@gmail.com.

The Silent Light

The light that speaks
Was silent
And when I wanted
Truth the most
The light flickered out