We dream of the stars,
And once we reach them,
We long for home.
We long for others,
And when we meet them,
Wish to be alone.
We aspire to fame,
And once we're popular,
We don't want to be known.
Let's nail our feet to the ground.
Let our desires pull us up,
And once we're stretched thus, be grown.

I compose
right cheek on pillow
cool eye towards the morning
the greatest poem
ever
but
the words vanish
and I cannot not bring them back

so

I pick up my phone
TAP TAP the vilest thing I can imagine
send it out to the world
where
O
so many
throw their
***
against it.

The boy was driving out
Before he forgot himself
“What did I believe”, he cried out,
“On the bookshelf?”

But it was awful chilly, it was
For an afternoon
So he turned to friends, but spoke none 'cause
A mouth don’t fit on a loon

Biding time with a droopy eye
And changed his name again
Goes by a fool with a cool catch
To earn his name on cement

He is the son of summer
Winter at his feet
Doesn't remember forgetting his innocence
No matter who he meets

Yes, ma'am, thats's a dual voice you hear
He seeks high fidelity
Fully faithful, a sun-fearing queer
The caricature to be

On the stage, the things that he wrote
Those memories bygone
Come crashing down on him and he can't emote
The clown's not having fun

Finding time with a droopy eye
And changed his name yet again
Goes by a fool with a cool catch
To earn his name on cement

He is the son of summer
Winter at his feet
Doesn't remember forgetting his innocence
No matter who he meets

Praise be to cherry pie
And all the faces that made me feel that I
Could settle on "by and by"

Praise be to anyone
That put me under the blistering sun
I'll get back there, its true

I just got more to do

papa said, we should never forget
where we came from
and who we came with
so I abstain from the famous.
I'll take painfully plain
over one of those faces,
painted with abrasion
so much talent is wasted
because the palette is tainted
- just for the occasion -
it amazes me how
we're lost in the matrix
because the mind plays tricks
when you toss in hatred.

© Matthew Harlovic