Past & Future
Our unsubstantial twin ghosts
It's Sunday inside me.
A witness to the sweet joy of a life without attachments.
Never trust an uninvited body
Lulled to sleep by rage songs.
Waiting is desire
Yearning is surrendering
I encountered an old Lady Poet in the underground last night.
Gloom crawled around while hope faded.
I looked for consolation in her mouth agape.
I hurried home to be alone and write about her.
Her ageless provocativeness electrified me.
I was left wholly.
Thank you, Lady.
You might be homeless
but don't you know you're a Queen?
The bliss of solitude I understand it at last
My heart with pleasure fills
To mingle with the universe and feel
The life I have is all I have
And I will contribute a verse.
I don't want to be amused
But I want to be introduced
To a celebration of the fatality
Of my own mortality
Give me a poet for a lover
To loudly kiss under my bed cover
A philosopher for a friend
My way of living to defend
A pieta for a mother
To help me beauty rediscover
And a whiskey to forget
I have none of them yet
I suppose I will accept the facts
And overcome with bravery's acts
that life sometimes *****!