PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

all I see are pages and pages of too many suffered

forms of romance

opportunity knocked up side the head one too many times

by a bully named chance

whatever happened to Sir Lancelot ere' Lance

why does he not climb down off his horse and make a

stud man's stance

offers made to me right before the final death knell

flew like pristine promises out of the gates from hell

I get over one obvious obstacle only to find in its place

another has just fell

and I laugh and say to myself 'Oh, isn't that just

swell!'

who or what it is that I am running from

please note that I can not always tell

but always head long first into the abyss of

uncertainty I lunge pall-mall

and the 'Storms Of Illusion' that flail at my back

I can't find the strength to shift or quell

so I stop and if I listen closely enough

I can hear Quasimodo ringing his tinny and rusty bell

but usually I turn my eavesdropping ears away, for I

have nothing left in me to buy or borrow from

so neither can I surface to make a sale

but alas thanks to the generosity of my wayward

writer's paw

I have managed even if only for a moment to make

myself feel almost well

and when I pull my eyes off the center of my so sore

soul

I break the code of the curse that hides beneath my

goal

and this is the only way I am permitted to escape

from my own version of hell

by sidestepping the deeper issues and only giving

my true emotions the view of my back side and outer

shell......................

(written Jan 12,1992 am)