Muse
by Sam M. Phillips

Your pride wants to prescribe the words on this page,
The way that I express you,
But you cannot totally tyrannise me with lies
And hide your true motives,
Emotive response comes alive in my eyes at your presence,
But this is no pretence,
I know who I contend with,
You would force me to bend,
And bow and cower,
And believe in the shower of inspiration as my own,
Ego grown and inflated,
Personality elated,
To fall under your gaze
And be amazed at my own muse,

But it’s you I use,
I bring you to life through me,
You will always be subservient,
Sure, I’m a convenient medium,
To escape from the tedium
Of your ethereal existence,
But don’t deceive yourself to believe
That by persistence
You lower my resistance
And creep into my skull,
Push me aside,
Make me dull,

I’m a beacon burning bright,
A radiant soul in the night,
I bind you to my side,
And give you life for a time,
I’m your instrument,
A testament,
To who and what you are,
But you cannot bar me from my own voice,
It’s my choice,
If you come through or not,
It is I who allow you to make my brain burn hot,

I’m not a vacillating lackey,
I’m a facilitating turnkey,
You’re nothing without me,
So dictate these words,
They need to be heard,
I’ll write them down
And speak them in town,
I’ll show your form
Through words that adorn,
I’ll let my body be worn,
But don’t’ believe you can scorn me,
I was born to be free,

So stand aside spirit,
I have my own merit,
Give me credit
For being brazen and brave enough,
Strong and tough,
To handle your rough treatment,
To give testament
For the sake of art,

But with this I start
To realise,
Oh, muse,
It’s me you use!
Abuse your power,
Cower behind false pretence,
A contest,
Between head and heart,
You start a war,
And keep score,
No law,
Nothing forbidden,
Only hidden context,

To vex me
You hex me,
Confidently casting
And blasting me with words,
Heard internally
So that I don’t suspect or become suspicious
That the conspicuous calls come from you,
A parasite running parallel,
A hell in line with my own thoughts,
You contort and distort as a first resort,

To hide your true form
The norm is for you to say you’re me,
You’ll always be inside my mind,
Filled with selfish guile and wicked wile,
You stay awhile and steal
A massive mental meal
As I lay passive and reveal
My inner horde
On which you gorge,
A forge of liquid steel,
On which you become drunk and reel,
Concealing self in baleful fire,
And wicked lies,
You are desire,
And more besides,

You are temptation and frustration,
Anger and rage,
You are the rattling, robust metal cage
In which I’m trapped,
Clapped in irons,
Confined and refined
Down to raw emotion,
It is the commotion itself that you feed on,
The cap you don
And feel proud
To have cowed
A mighty soul such as I,
Left to cry and die by your words,

They are absurd,
But heard,
And identified with,
A course grained sieve
Through which my entire life drains,
Sorts and retains
The choicest tidbits,
The flailing fits
On which you sip
And slip and play,
Every day,
I’m forced to hear you and react,
Contract a virulent virus of the mind,
Muse,
You really are unkind.

***

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