i thought if i bought an owl
and brought it to Athens,
in return i would find
prosperity and compassion.
yet in all my years
i could not predict,
let alone imagine,
knowledge and wisdom
would have gone out of fashion.

© Matthew Harlovic

hope springs eternal
in the human breast.
though, we cope to journal
what we can't digest.
i digress. i confess,
i’m a mess yet i address
what i transgress and i reassess
my disposition. for instance,
i made a decision to make progress and what i set, i met.
yet i let myself regress to a great depression
in which i questioned what was predestined
so i searched for penance and found surrealism.
i heard sundry ideals, the sounds of theism.
i let my thoughts run free among the prisms
and tasted other worldly wisdom on my tongue.

© Matthew Harlovic

i think* you want
the best for me,
therefore I am
and will always
try my best for you.

© Matthew Harlovic

will the birds sing or sit in a string discussing theories on a wire?
too tired for repercussions from prior trials by fire,
so they pile the pyre and sing for the choir
while the liars catch wildfire to a dire count of 4-5-1
by a child with a drumstick instead of a thumb in his mouth.
you can hear the percussion through his stomach for crying out loud.
are the parents proud of this juvenile behavior,
have they vowed to reconcile with its nature?
are they beguiled by how it reviles exile
but every now and then goes the extra mile?

© Matthew Harlovic

the day we first met,
you manifested your will
to depart from me.

© Matthew Harlovic

you tempt me
with your temper
but i have a temperate
response to your tantrum
because a tempest like you
will attempt to ride tandem
if things do not follow through
like you planned them to.
  
© Matthew Harlovic