Ask me about writing
poetry is my kick
if I rhyme in due time
Reason works its logic
the season of the wolf
howls with hunger at night
Still the darkness rages
in stages with the moon
in the gloom of my room
Proof is in the pudding
they say like the budding
of flowers in spring crime
Obviously takes time
to plan years of revenge
vengeance is mine I say
Elegant with panache
if you write your style shows
it rises like baked bread
Thieves quarrel over loot
not unlike those squirrels
on the fence bark and bark
Indeed like mad housewives
in the Fifties who talk
as they walk none too bright
Callous of me to speak
of my elders this way
hang the warp at the loom
Ask me about knitting
I know nothing but words
the weft crosses transverse
Ask me about language
here I could spill the beans
about magic all day
Reason works its logic
with each proposition
on bended knee I've read
Treasure ephemeral
moments too beautiful
to remember deep dark
Shadows within the soul
without a goal passing
crepuscular at dusk
See the sky reflects mind
vision remarks how stars
travel light years to touch
Take my hand as we walk
the length of the beachfront
I won't recite my verse
Ask me about women
I know so few first hand
how to remove the husk
Rats know to peel the shell
so many times I fell
in love for nothing much
Remember how troubled
the scarab from Memphis
found life in the city
Ask me about ancient
wonders of modern times
I remain still silent
Terrible to grow old
and not know history
how they murdered the tsar
Steal a glance through a pane
of glass at mannequins
barefoot what a pity
Teach each generation
the mistakes of the past
to no avail I fail
Search me how to succeed
in this society
their eyes eat me alive
Ask me about living
I can't say I know how
they taught me how to drink
Remember how we used
to dance shy yet carefree
no more with my back bent
Truth be told I tell lies
I'm fit as a fiddle
light as light from a star
Ask me about travel
I've not been very far
not even in my dreams
Reason works its logic
like hot tar and feathers
no matter if I wail
Sad as a child so lost
the past stolen by trolls
they tried to help me thrive
Pity the mannequins
in their storefront windows
with too much time to think
Only a poet sees
their bare feet without shoes
pregnant with no future
Eat it up I don't fit
I see beyond the lies
they sell along State Street
Treat each moment as new
nobody has a clue
how to enjoy the screams
Remember how we sat
at the beach with the sand
on our feet like creatures
Yellow golden sunshine
with sea salt in our hair
the wind notes my defeat
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