Van Gogh's Ear

madness, van gogh's ear...
i keep chopping up
pieces of my soul,

spreading them thin,
to still the tiny voices
that haunt our lives.

who are you?
what do you want?
where do you want

to go with your life?
you cant sleep in the hollow
of the cliff forever...

choose your sword, and live!
or step off, free falling,
and try to find your wings!

yes, love is torment...
the halls of the museum
echo with the sounds...

of babies changed, and
beds made... and the smells
of soup on the stove...

and love stains on the sheets!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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