my mornings are good news
most of them are spies arriving at the house
giving me the secret codes in ciphers
and the whole day i spend my time
deciphering what my gods are telling me
do this, don't do that,
proceed this way, you meet this man
do not say your name, he will brief
you on something new and exciting
avoid the limelight, be at the background
see but do not be seen,
keep a low profile and work on the blunders
read the morning news again
and see if everything is done
Mr. anonymous, are you happy now?
on a cup of black coffee, and a paragraph on
page one of the Peninsula
shall your focus be. Tomorrow on the
Perhaps, and then on the hullabaloo
the Tallulah and the Shalna
and the Oh my God this can't be
but It Is, It happens,
Trafalgar, de javu , Javelin of Janus,
Spears of Spartacus, Sword of Damocles,
Where's the Golden Fleece? The snake woman
just escaped leaving all her eight children dead.
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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