Why Jester. Why.

Living and life and life and living. Can living a life involve my giving for living? Giving my what...? Why do I write? Why am I here. What do I speak of and what is there to speak? What is my existance? What do I know? Am I one of them? Or am I on my own? I write to give life. I write for me. My life is nothing without words. And words are nothing without me. Poetry is an art. My life revolves around artists. Edgar Allen Poe. Lewis Carroll. Langston Hughes. How about I beg thee, adieu. I am a queen and my words are my law. I am a queen who stands up above. I am a queen and my rhythm is my land. And I will become king. The only to stand. What am I? What are you? Is this another poem you'll stand there and screw? Arna Bontempts, Jane Austen. William Shakespeare. These were the artists. These were the people. These poets. Are the reason I write. King and Queen, Prince and Princess. I am the Jester. Not your mistress.