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I was once told by a work colleague
I am living proof that romance is dead
Ha.
Well look at me now
A poet.
Not a fleshy headstone
circles
chasing
circles
chase
triangles
chasing
squares
chase
lon­g
black
lines
that
when
stood
up
become
high
black
walls.
Oceania calls to me, luring me out to sea
Calling me out to see how beautiful she
Can be in the light of the moon and the breeze
(I believe) She'll show me the way
(I believe) She'll lead me astray
(She'll take me) Out to the bay
(On my way) To Pagana LeVay

The rocks and oaks and willow trees
Somehow seem to summon me
Carry me out on the breeze
To the pond where she was mine, all mine
Upon a faded memory
The wind is my guide
As I wander outside
My heart skips a beat, but I stay
On my way to Pagana LeVay

The stars, they shine so bright tonight
The moon basking us in the love of her light
And all the signs designed
to direct my peace of mind
Are pointing with her smile
Toward the sky

Okay, okay
My love set me free
This fall to my death is my destiny
At long last, I see
You've been waiting for me
At the edge of the earth and the sea...

It's okay, it's okay
My angel is here now to take me away
My body is lost to the waves
But my soul in the wind and the rain
Calls to Pagana LeVay
Psychedelic ghost poem.
how sad is the papered wall
Of a half demolished house.
Square patches of fade
Where beloved pictures were
And flapping ends
Flicking in the breeze.
Open for all to see
And cold now
In winter's winds.
Coloured paper
Stuck to crumbling brick
Like lipstick on a wrinkled mouth
Or rouge on creepy cheeks.
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