Surreal Free

Free are washed up artists
apparent people with no talent intellect or wit
riffs of loud improvised spontaneous chats and responses
empty corridors and dropped out classes
light down torches
returning stanzas of love
and nonsense
branches of dead leaves
and strings from puppeteers' fingers
silent fields in the middle of congested metropolis

Freedom
it is to be alone
to make a journey independently
taking short steps
alone playing with the little creations
of the universe
and the making harmony for simple recreation
repeating
subtle sounds dimmed down like the
sound of waking up every morning
thinking love
is not needed maybe
there is a queen or a woman
waking up this morning
thinking it is Christmas
and how men told us all kind of
lies of shot moons and summer days
different from the former self
and beautiful fantasies of perfect lives
missed completely

Freedom is ti
go down slowly
and get up again
through various unlearned lessons
it is to see play and serious play
turning heads while passing by slowly
attracting attention
it is to go on watching how one falls gently
following the path
slanted going back
to the past but
sometimes not go
forward amazed of how alternatives turn out

Category:

People & Blogs

Tags:

• Surreal
• Free