The poverty I am saddest about
( his shoutings about politics )

…..he read that online
mine poetry about this poverty
the stupidity started scolding me
declared instantly me-moi as its enemy
its words, so absurds
a lunatic so terrific

not its area nor its section
I oft write in Dutch and this is mine declaration

I do now one step lower
From “it” I step a bit lower down to “his”
his profession does not read poetry
but he thought he could read
poetry poesy and poems

true very pity
not his art nor his profession
he meddles in everything
mine poetic wings, not his thing
(contin.on Part 2)

© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright Protected

tumbling up hills while running through air
singing songs underwater
lakes floating in space
spinning in circles and drawing  straight lines
needing to start but can’t find my pen
answering doors with nobody there
diving through snow escaping the heat
feeling my way through clouds that talk
wanting to wake but finding no strength
trying to speak with sand on my teeth
sweeping the floor and shifting the walls
chanting the prayers
throwing frisbees of lace
how can I sprint with skis on my feet
raging red sun bursting with ice
crazy these dreams unpacking my head

@journeyofdays

looking at this
such
a
mess
a life in pieces

@journeyofdays