Tiny Tree frog stuck to the window , looking quite philosophical , working algorithms while waiting on supper , keeping to yourself quite repose and educated , playing mind games with Mayflies till your hunger is satiated* ...

Poet lives amongst people,
in the land of sadness and happiness, where they live,
he dresses up like them, speaks like them,
in their language he had to learn.
But when he is on his own, he speaks in own tongue
to not to forget it.
He speaks with the dead, he keeps in touch with them,
to make sure everything goes according to plan.

He is afraid to tell what he sees,
in case people put him down and disbelieve.
He forces himself to keep his mouth shut,
he knows the price. He can't just die,
he's on a mission. So carefully
he smuggles in the truth in his poetry.

Could of been your fool,

It could of been me,
or it could of been you,
I never knew it then,
but I could of been your fool.

You had this attitude
that was pretty rude,
I pictured you in platitudes,
but the latitude cut right through
the altitude,
and you just slipped right through.

Now you long for the truth,
and
i’m,
just
long in the tooth,
who knew then, that,
if we didn't pretend,
then I,
could of been your fool.

Flying above you
where the air is thin,
there in;
I cast the final sin.
Simply defined,
it looks like you win,
again,
&

I’ll always be your fool.

i stay drunk all the time
on sweet berry wine
from the fruit of sublime
on the trees and the vine

i get high every day
by the way of the blaze
that's just my way
to break through the haze

i get by all the time
with these ways of mine
all I need is a dime
and sweet berry wine

i get high every day
by the way of the blaze
that's just my way
to break through the maze