hours pass by,
I guess days sometimes change,
months, I haven't known in years,
somewhere deep inside my mind,
words howl once again,
call me to write once more,
I don't want,
not now, not yet,
time shall come when its due,
paint pictures of a world so new,
a magical place,
we shall all be in a queue,
a world, not ruled by a few

they say two roads
diverges, hoax!
there's a lone crow,
on every highway,
one that i vow,
resembles,
a modern day poet,
breadcrumbs,
in a blistering,
debauched sphere,
thy be our totem,
post-mortem gravestone;
"death by thousand poems"

I often sit on the moon,
one, real as any afternoon,
a place, away from here,
in my beloved atmosphere

views come soon after,
some vague and quick,
some remind me...
corners of painting, yes that is it!
where nothing happens, it's like,
silent waiting, for one warm waving

but when sun hides behind my moon,
and shadow of my palm covers the earth,
there's days I wave the sign of peace,
flip the bird at ease, then are the days,
it's all just old rock n' roll ways