Tuesday, January 11, 2011


I could tell you that your eyes are the future that I cried to see at my birth...
BUT, you might *not* be ready
probably wont believe me
after all, I'm a poet
I have a way with words.
an alchemy with phonemes
pupils are full of sincerity and silence
I often stammer in person
my mind overflows and i have a slight delay mid sentence
I tense
I freeze
my palms do get balmy
you think
I have my way with words
the birds dont have their way with the air
nor the fish with the sea
I'm speaking in currents
contrary to popular belief
I don't catch the flow so often
my words come from where they came
We ask for the truth of their origin
like we wonder where God comes from
the question in yourself
keeps you from believing
keeps you from seeing the better beautiful before you
If I affirm, "Believe only half of what you hear"
then let my name be the lie
my words are my truth
if they be illusion they be for my personal allusions
I'm delusional like the best prophets were
do you blame the brush or the artist
for the pink water in the painting
if perception is reality
maybe he sees your blue as pink
if perception is reality
we all live in a myriad of illusion
but maybe the most sane of us all
speak in allusions

your eyes are the future
i cried to see at my birth.

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