write what they
like to call poetry
& they make
a big scene
about it
with wild running horses
dancing trees
& even
splendid
waterfalls
to top it of
with
they
write
down their thoughts
arranging lines of words
neatly underneath
each other
creating figurines
of information
theyre just about everywhere
these so called
poets
& they
wont let you
think for a second
that theres no
such thing
as a flaming
torch of
creativity
or deep
azure
azure
wells of
endless
awe
they will
be on you
at every possible
occasion
& make you
think in
re-verse
to re-mind
you of their
psychic
intimacy
in this
world
& the hereafter
from where
they originally
tap their
thieving
thieving
knowledge
& the
voluptuous
voluptuous
mass of
text
the world
of people is
one of limitation
but there is an other
world within
this limited realm
of man
another continent
all toghether
where endlessness
weaves beautific
creations of
no-time
the great work
is to
wrap the inside
outwards
and express
that
and this
it may sound
simple
like the ringing
of a bell
or the tooting
of a musical
horn
and it is
to the simple
to the plain
and the honest
who sincerely
believe in their
own creation
the great work
is to
wrap the inside
outwards
and express
that
and this
it may sound
simple
like the ringing
of a bell
or the tooting
of a musical
horn
and it is
to the simple
to the plain
and the honest
who sincerely
believe in their
own creation
