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Flying away
Folder:
PAPER PURSUIT
I am no scholar, and I am sure it shows, woe,
Through the repetitious conceptions I put down
In my constant cries as an amateur poetry boy
Begging for attention in your sweet sentiments,
Complimentary praise, the tasty nectar drawn
With a syphoning straw, from the fog of flattery.
I can hear the interdimensional elves laughing
At me... they well know this life is but a scam.
The voices leap upward in a flash and storm to
Attack me, the frightened victim of delirium and
Drunken screams, then they pierce my fragile
Heart with a shining knife of scolding white light
As the stench of stupidity rises and will always
Wisp with its sedative poison to carry my corpse
Floating into the eternal demise, remembrance:
Yeah, Pungus is just another insignificant sinner.
your aura
'
'I am no scholar' Quite the contrary shows.. it seems to me you must have had many lives to be such a compassionate sensitive and illuminating poet
'they pierce my fragile
heart with a shining knife of scolding white light'
majestic
hope you never again call yourself a sinner ... you are a teacher of everyone who reads your poems and all who come into contact with your aura
Whitman wasn't a scholar and
Whitman wasn't a scholar and neither was Bukowski. Hell, shocking as it may be, I'm not a scholar either. Keep writing and growing as a poet and artist. Don't let any outer noise dissuade you.