I grabbed the eternal fire of the life
when your laugh suddenly grasped me in a void.
As you cuddled my abandoned, desolate spirit,
what a piece of sparkle could really commit
did you at least see and feel it, my dear?

Till now I remember your humane manners,
as I climb my first power-smelling ladders...
I see how the love inside turns into ego,
If I'd have been sober and hadn't let you go,
Would you have still been so true and sincere?

Power is as right as the origin of life,
however as guilty as the creator's strive.
I live all the moments as if my last ones
and wish for a moment, just only at a glance
that you were around now, that you were here...

You are the reflection of my hazy past,
my self-destructed, inside-lost part,
a disparaged philosopher, a despised poet,
our sublime revenge we begin to get,
and my majestic woman,  
you are inside yet...
So, the future is definitely clear...

Future is clear...

today i'm dead
and I resurrected

or I died yesterday
when the window was
stars and fire
flame

today i'm dead
and took the torch with him

and the birds sing again on the street

29.06.18

O why, O why, O why was I born in this non-laternlit world?
No!
O why, O why, O why was I born in this non-torchlit world.
What woe!
And try, and try, and try I do, to fulfill myself, all others, too!
And try, and try, and try I do, to remind myself, all others, too:

That it is not man's devices that light the darkness,
but the sun's brightness…

I light a torch inside a creative mind
with breath and intention

The flame dances, rising high
to transmute into words.
Into poems, stories, manuscript
that flows on vellum white.

It burns brightly making my face a glow
and my heartbeat rhythmically.

When poem is done
words combust with air of voice
to echo into a special poem.

A poem, I gift to a readers mind.

StarBG © 2017

Look at this, on April the Fourth,
A man torched his Porsche in Ringwood North,
Now, that is a headline to read,
Why did he torch his Porsche, indeed?
Well, for insurance, obviously,
So, he's in the manure, prithee,
Poor fellow got sprung, you see,
I do admire rhymes in literacy!