I decided to read Ulysses
during the Corona Virus.

Its a maze, or better again,
akin to snakes and ladders.

Great progress achieved,
then suddenly a Latin fog.

Detours not permissable,
takes a book to read a book.

No one, has lied to me
everyone tells  the truth.

I know not one of you that
died, why then give a hoot.

Wall Street's not bricked
no barriers all around

We are looking for a clue
it's too cryptic too profound.

Corona is a decoy for a
number called the dead

We're not doing the counting
they put figures in our head.

Sometimes
The panic
Is more dangerous
Than the pandemic

Well beneath my sarcasm
My hatred for the world

There is a different story waiting
Waiting to be told

For I am made of poetry
Of sunsets
And the moon

Of summer rain
And chocolate smell
And nights that end too soon

It's hidden well
It's out of sight
It's on you to find the key

For my fragile little world,
My dear,
Is not for everyone, you see?

I've drank the finest of wine
Down to the bottom of the bottle
Only to witness an ocean alone
Barely surviving my own hands

A fire burned through my viens
That was blew out by the wind
Breezing through the leaves
A calmness that sits with me
Before calmness dismisses me

I walked across the tallest blue sky
Where wide winged birds soar high
Til promises of white clouds turn grey
And so there I fell with the rain
Dripping through the lowest gutter

Many times I was buried, lying in dirt
Like a grave, needing no help
Finding the dark inside of myself
But I always rise with the blades
Of the greenest fresh spring grass

No matter what feeling I catch
None of them seem to everlast