And out of solitude and fright
A poem may be born
With love in sight,
It’s like giving birth
Alone
One, cold and lonely
Night,
To the child in you,
That never was able
To take flight
But in a desperate poem,
Found its true Life.
And out of solitude and fright
A poem may be born
With love in sight,
It’s like giving birth
Alone
One, cold and lonely
Night,
To the child in you,
That never was able
To take flight
But in a desperate poem,
Found its true Life.
That you must revisit and reliveA film that with you stayed,Because it said so much to youWas also, so well made!
But Who can Stop,What Never should begin!
I have deeply looked,Into the face,Of my inner liberty,And found tranquility.The World may crash,Indeed it will,Nothing for me to do,For I’ll be happy,Even then,As long as I have you.
No one has a Crystal BallTech cannot answer it all,Most is so out of our hands,Even, if so foolishly,We believe we’re in command.All the talk is one big scam,On the stage, one great big Ham,No one really knows a thing,Make believe, the sinuous fraud,Is the goal, the perfect sting.
Shadows crawl along the wallsOf past incense,Each day succeeds one anotherLeaving no print, no memoryJust emptiness.
To whom, you just can’t sayGo away, get lostCome back another day,It just doesn’t work that way,Imperatively, they must be writtenFor the poet’s survivalAnd the poem’s, birth day