Poetry For Me, Like Wings

Poetry for me is when I got to sleep or breath
And feel my fear and greed leave me as I bleed
And feel free and at ease and leave my scenic feats
Lean on self-esteem and gleam and feed till I'm obese

Poetry for me is a blue moon in a cruel sky
A typhoon on a cool night - apply to all accute plight
A light swoons on an old stoop, two old friends hold truce
And behold truth - through memories forego youth in clothes loose

Poetry for me is sitting down to write a page
Feeling this tingling sensation within me change
And the world begins to spin as I take aim and dive in
And free myself from sin and worldly things - life is grim

Yet poetry for me is that grimness whisked away!
A voice tells me to stay: explore and play!
And I don't know what to say but my desperation fades
And thins - and with exhasperation I recall so many things...

Poetry for me, is like wings.

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So I'm up North, of course, waiting on our day's main course. In my mind words play off course on my brain's golf course. I'm evolved Norse. Saiyan. You what I'm sayin'? I'm not sure, but for sure I've got more to say. Contemplating life again while I've got more.