ORIGINALITY- by David Getz

Part 1

Blank.

Bare.

No brushstroke is there

The only thing

That exists between

The ballpoint pen

That I bare

In my hand

Is the air

That, for lack of matter,

Is surprisingly full

Of a denseness

That keep my creativity

Defenseless

From its gaping chasm.

Like a cell’s cytoplasm

I have to wade through

This discouraging liquid

To come out on the 

Other side of this

Embryonic fluid

That gives birth to my art

That gives life to these words

Puts a pulse in its heart

So that, afterwards,

I can look at these words

And be proud of the fact

That I played a small part

In bringing into this world

A semblance of meaning

So that others around me

Can reap from my gleaning.

Part 2 

This process.

This practice.

It makes us all ask, “Is this

Infantry of words

That I send out to war done

Its job of defeating

The kingdoms of boredom

And silence and apathy?

Have I done all 

That’s asked of me?

Or am I struggling

Like Sisyphus

To push a rock

For eternity?

Will these words

That I tirelessly

Pour on these pages

Turn cold and then die

And be lost to the ages?

While i have dreams

They’ll be read by

Wise men and sages,

I have to understand

That wisdom comes in stages.

Impatience, it rages.

Negativity defaces

My longing for places

Where the homeostasis

Allows creativity to be

Welcomed with warm embraces.

Whether or not our works 

Ever end up in a museum,

If we create works of art,

Our loved ones should get to see them.

Part 3

Struggle

Stagnation

O God, may this never

Describe the state of the nation

Of my thoughts towards

The practical power of creation.

Like our world, 

When an author attempted

To articulate

The way in which you 

Brought this planet

To its present state,

You spoke the word

You didn’t hyperventilate

The Creator of Matter

And Mass, you are the magistrate

That called the mountains

To converge into tectonic plates

After each creative act,

You paused a bit to celebrate

For five days, you did this

And on the sixth, let’s set the record straight,

Then you rolled up your sleeves

And said, “Now let me demonstrate!”

And from the earth

You took a bit of sand

And said, “I’ll show its worth.

So every angel understands

That what I’m forming with my hands

Is the center of my Master plan

What I am making now--is man.

The intensity that’s asked of me

In this one act of history

To make a people that will be

The center of the plan that we

Began at this earth’s infancy

To love a people constantly

And share in all eternity

The love that flows from you to me

The image of my very self

I’ll put in them and no one else

And because I have created them

They will become most blessed when

They learn to pray, and draw, and sing

And sculpt, and dance, for human beings

Are acts of creation, my creative vision,

So to create for themselves will be their mission.

Epilogue

If God, the maker of time and space

Built creativity into existence

Then this is the point that we need to embrace

We can’t keep permeating our penitence

The acts of poetry and song,

Art and drama, spoken word

None of these are too absurd

So please, let’s not get this wrong.

Originality at its core

Means create like the creator, nothing more.