Hopeless romantic,
adventurer in paradox;
so it goes
Take it easy my son, the old man said, there’s no need to rush, get it into your head. Was it the hare or the tortoise
By Donald Quixote3 years ago in Poets
i’ve lost my self again leaves have left bare branches rustling copper floor reminds me of another bygone summer it’s bearable to live in a world
This poem is a sad poem, a sordid verse, too sordid for rhymes, lies, apologies. I entangle myself with her because she is my obsession
Which hearts go out to the city’s homeless? ragged outcast bodies, scattered minds, no warm bed or companion, nothing, nobody
She sits by a window, her back to me, a stranger already, empty bottles on the table still, the dawn pouring in, the silhouette of a guitar
When I start to write the madness tends to flow outwards inwards pervading the space between me and the page
fireflies tonight, two distant birds scrawk in a pair of treetops, hidden lonely nests. I walk down familiar forking paths
you met a girl, you fell in love, you found your muse, you chased the moon and stemmed time's tide to be with her.
Sitting cross-legged Half Lotus On hard rock Next to falling water Flowing jade. Eternal sound In the soundless void;
There are times I don’t know where I’m going, I feel like I’m stagnating. But scientifically speaking, I know that I’m growing,
Fuck capitalism, man - gaudy brothel-lined streets peddling stimulation, tomorrow’s evanescent vogue, today’s intoxication;
Dog’s lying next to me Legs up in the air, Doesn’t seem to give a shit Spread-eagled on the chair. I politely try to move him