Ghost of the Past. A Poem of Reflection

Ghost of my youth, fades into shadows of Time.

Whilst modern realities invade my mind.

Broad-faced devils, once haunted my sleep.

Now replaced by sweetness. Of the words I speak.

Honey drips from tongue where rage used to sweep

Fist pumping rage, punched at violent air.

Will not be quieted, till my flesh they tear.

Because, I dare you to, and go voice my cause.

When in my ignorance the world applause.

A jester now beloved, makes them laugh...

Who, then, is that someone's friend, to pay the cast?

But you're coming up real-time shaky.

Even from down there on your knee,

Trying to say lots of things,

Turned out to be nothing to me

You will still have to come up though.

Because I can't come down.

Not to that place where you are.

And tumbling yet further down.

Beware of those lying sweet talkers

They came calling with a baited hook.

Be discerning to see what they are really after.

Could be nothing more than your pocketbook.

“My friend,” that man is quick to say.

But he'll just as quickly walk over you dying in the way.

And that is if he is not the very one who.

Will be pushing the hardest to send you away too.

Yet, don't become overly cynical because of this.

I will be among the very first to say.

There is much virtues to be found if you will find them.

Then go spread it liberally along the way.

E Lloyd Kelly, 4/12/20 #poemsofthetimes