Said One to Another,
But it never happened
Since they had never really met,
Except in the minds
Of one another,
Or maybe on some imaginary
Movie set.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen,
(if there are any left?)
Fiction plays sly tricks
On those,
Who in reality are alone
With loneliness,
Far, far away
From whatever,
Might be called, home.
It’s my religion, my love, my ecstasy,Like a mystic of old antiquity,I pray thru poems, poets and Poetry,I live in a world of pure and fantastic fantasy,A world of the Absurd where with one word,I can do Anything or go Anywhere,That word is Love,It embraces Everything,The World should be made Of,That is my confession,My magnificent…
Are all aloneWhat can they do?They have no home,The oyster has its shellBut without its Pearl,It is also alone,In the quite mistOf all that salt and foam.
Life slides away,Anyway,And so doThe loveless daysOf far fetched dreamsNever retrieved.Love, so far away,Was never to be foundNever, would it beEmbraced,By destiny,Life scantily lived,Hardly receivedInsufficiently,Achieved,For without loveWe are nothing,A fallen, Autumn leaf,That has committedSuicide,Out of Wintery grief.
On me,Schizophrenic delight,Withdrawal from realityInto fantasy, delusionEmotional profusion,Flight!That totally liberates me,I travel thru time and spaceAt the velocity of LightNo waste, just facedWith being,What I want to beJust delighting in fantasy,And, completely,Totally and overwhelmingly,FREE!
Poetry, enchantress,Keeper of all dreams.
May the Poet write,It is in everyone’s freedomTo like or not to likeBut if, by chance,You fall in love with poetryYou will not regret it,For so much closer,To Heaven,You will always be.
