deepundergroundpoetry.com

Nature? Nay Tour? Fate or?

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Nature? Nay Tour? Fate or? [/font][/font]
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Just let the poets cry themselves to sleep,[/font][/font]
Let the musicians play on their tearful words.[/font][/font]
Where the Bible doesn't reach,[/font][/font]
and where the deceitful river is not heard.[/font][/font]
The boyish bravery of the automatic writing,[/font][/font]
that is scribbled on the parasol head;[/font][/font]
Or the macho primality of each far sighting,[/font][/font]
that just defends what the warlord hadn't said.[/font][/font]
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In the skies fly the eagles of yesterday's today,[/font][/font]
weeping sadly through their feathered frames.[/font][/font]
Maybe they will clean their souls on the way,[/font][/font]
but never will remember their west leaning names.[/font][/font]
The poet named the Earth, and all that flows around,[/font][/font]
but he will always be searching, never an end,[/font][/font]
because their words are made from old sounds,[/font][/font]
that just can't grip the menace of a friend.[/font][/font]
�
Awake, stay awake, I'm leaving this place,[/font][/font]
but expect a visit on the third day, because[/font][/font]
I can't stay away long, my heart even stays[/font][/font]
in this forest, by the kestrel's three week house.[/font][/font]
�
Medicine from rain, water can do the same[/font][/font]