Poet
A breach, now which many actual
available
incoherent blank spots an twindeling sodden nature.
Well Lust
Well portioned
Well music and sordid fall
and another obsession.
Another obsession,
another trite matter?
Dare I ask
and repeat.
Nay, NAY
I say fault by a many a mature fortune.
Lost muck and rake,
and pollution of a self loathe lack of company.
Sit now and humor another trip and lack of sync.
Another ball of wayward words and finished concepts,
Of both the joy and the road that is behind.
So only measured by your fellow man.
What hidden smile?
What constance of any question?
Well rounded in the serpent and the cycles both.
So it is to be in its own,
in its deed.
Peaceful mockeries,
disdainful sin
All the things that come from within.
Signs of Red, Blue, and White
Orange and Green and the Yellow of Light.
A big horizon in a tie dye sight,
A battle, A war, a roue, a fight
A chance to highlight the might.
Tasty foods, sweet Wines, and shiny Jewels
A show of shows for the fools.
A letter, a word, a message of rules,
A law banning such pools.
The battle raged with a roar of might
And so ended in sweet goodnight.
James J Jackson 