Thursday, May 26, 2011


You may listen to see me
Cause you’ll never be me,
And search with your mind
If you’re hopin’  to find
That rare precious glimpse of
This old guy who pimps
Out his voice and his thought
Which though no-one has bought,
I’ll illicitly sell
You my ticket to Hell
For surely I’m there,
You can come, sit, and stare.
While  everyone tries,
You can’t see with your eyes,
You won’t know my perfume
Or taste of my gloom,
Nor can your sight
Share my finest delight
Or divine what I’ll write
When I’m sleepless at night.
And far from my touch
You can’t know me much.
My open book,
May entice you to look.
I doubt what you see
Will “look” much like me.
A shadow, a teardrop, an ax and a rose
A moonbeam, a roar, the song I compose,
My hand and my handout, I’m good for all those.
And a moment of silence,  perhaps,  if I doze.
It’ s not that I hide
My ‘out’ or ‘in’ side.
You just have to decide
If  you’ll go for the ride?

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