Thursday, March 11, 2004
Down to Delivery
I do not suffer from waling in Society's dark streets, writing dark poetry.
I do not succumb to elevated wisdom, of long-bearded men and women with coffe jars.
I do not bow to the darkest corners in the Bible, I do not read the verses out aloud.
I do not kneel for any Kings or Queen, for that I've seen was in my dream.
I do not read others' lips, because they are velvet, and none of my business.
I do not, do not, believe. I merely sleep and wake up to my screams.
And in the fall, when all is wrong, I kiss the steel pole that kept me old.
For do I not cherish the hope of a wish? No I don't, but I respect it.