Friday, June 15, 2012


Why do you follow me where I walk thou
Sprite unkown? Do you have it in for me?
Have I offened you? Should I give a bow
To some nome I've never met in a tree?
Whatever the cause for your pesky trapse
I'd wish you to leave me in the peace for once!
But if you must follow don't speak in haste
Of the things of the world we are amonst.
I've thought long and hard because of the thought
That burrows in deep, wherein you have caught
The very heart and soul of my being;
Now you have caught me and I cannot sing.
For words and song do fail what I did see
Through your eyes, the tale of what will soon be.

O let me alone! Can't you see I'm so
Busy that a rose budded bafoon could
Not whine in a passion for his love, O,
I could beat such a fellow, I sure would!
For the sights you have shown do sting my mind
And leave me at odds with my very self
So that I cannot sleep or eat! You bind
My very conceince to the sight! An elf
In Santa's workshop that hates to fix toys
Is what I am! Well, you'll see he annoys
Just as well as you do, for he's stubborn
As an Ox, and he will give you the burn!
For all that you try to get me to think
I'll turn it around with a simple wink!

Yet your words are compelling, the image
Self selling; as though it were in my own
Best interests to listen to you. Wage
War upon me and my mind; you have won
By the thought of a rose that's never bloomed,
That's never opened, that's been self subsumed
Into nothingness that awaits it's track;
The track that projects it's blossoming acts.
The thought of beauty that's narrowing in
Upon itself and the like so to win
A further life for the rose already
Blossoming is an idea unsteady!
What hope have I to fix such a mad curse?
To fix the rose that places beauty first?

Steady on their mind! made infirm in woods
At night, followed by some strange old bloke, some
Sprite all dressed in white that glows. There were goods
That once did masquerade as truth, and won
For themselves much repute, as I'm sure you
Will agree with me; for most try to succeed
By means illegitimate, much like glue
That's stuck where a nail should be, like a reed
In place of a scepter. So who are you?
Be you man or beast? Spirit or fowl?
A bird of the air like some night owl?
Whatever your nature you may still rue
That you came to try my mind. Give a sign
That you come for a good reason, design.

                          Unsure, (c) Luke Bennette, June 2012

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