September 25, 2012 § Leave a comment
Sane to say the world never grew
and from a plain past any could brew
lest it gets me deeper in my brain
claiming nothing and none makes full sense
altruist born souls gone wildly insane
for they were long born somewhere that wasn’t theirs
like a bright star in a full vast sky in grey.
O, the Planet’s ancientness
The wiser, the huger the defect
and we are often millions blemishes
wandering and grasping through years in packs.
I sought once to live in a smaller world
whence I’d harvest smiles of kindness
And if a kin of mine would come down
I would simply stretch my hand edge ways
and pin again his dreams in a while
for our proximity would not be strain only to our souls
it would share the responsibility with our bodies’ own.
But I blabber;
By reason of I hear a lonely stream
it longs to say to me
that in a short future there is nowhere for my dreams to be.
And a passerby carriage ran by me;
From its wooden chamber I heard what seemed the stream
led by the noisiest horses
which never slowed its speed.
The world now tiny and frown;
Such as a graceful hand it seized me
Its voice soft but solemn
thus, it dropped a tear in their honor:
“Poetry?” it said to me,
“To frame beautifully your words is such a waste
of fine grammar and raw creativity!”
It never hit me as it should
so here I kept
so here I stood.
The hanging heads —
apart of brains
Wise they are
when they complain.
The Planet now a peer;
“To the wise there’s no boundaries!”
they often cheer
but limits are to every seer
otherwise there wouldn’t be none
And the hanging heads would have never been born
into the fast circle cast within.
A dead leaf falls by my hand
as someone congratulates a dumb every now and then
We shall cry no tears for faulty words! –
true it is they can’t always be erased
but you can always strive to write in the line below
and turn in brilliance what first was nothing but wrong.