Where is my burning star?
Far from my vantage
Strictly vintage
And precisely a privilege
Possibly too far
Or too obstructed
But you are there
I know it
Where is my bright light?
You know the Night gives me
Quite the Fright without you,
My big bright light
My big bright light.
Please perpetuate this evening
And bring it by in the morning.
I'm absolutely feigning my feuding
The light is soothing.
Sweet success as a child
Tastes as chocolate gold coins
But you see as they grow
They become to some reviled
And exiled and only spoken of in
Argot.
As if abandoned by the light.
As if abandoned by the light.
7 comments:
This is deep. I especially enjoy "You know the Night gives me Quite the Fright without you." I can't tell if it's about a person or a goal. Or neither.
You would.
I don't leave anonymous comments.
Your words are to Homer and epic poetry as six-year-olds' paintings are to Picasso and "Great Abstraction."
I digress, if I spewed words callously, continuously, I would not call it poetry, but a certain cowardliness.
In the road to self-actualization, I realize I can actualize into anything, anybody I want AND in plural, but alas, how oft multiplicity is dismissed for duplicity!
Oh gawd, please tell me you really mean it.
But please don't tell me you stole your syntax from The Whitest Kids You Know and please do not ignore the inherent contradiction between your anonymous discount of cowardice and the fact that it was anonymous.
This anonymous guy is a hag.
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