“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Mary Poppins (my balloon)
Do you ever wake up with a smile already waiting
behind your mask,
it feels and looks like
No worries,
it's all good,
my pleasure,
and all are true
and on that day
for some strong sensational vibe
that moves in rolling waves
that nothing can pierce your levitated mood
or drag down your magic carpet
-that without any specific reason or cause-
every-single-thing
makes perfect
sense,
it all adds up
it all works perfectly the way
it should, the right answer,
poetic justice, (re:)solutions and serendipity
and
it's all real?
Not really?
Me neither.
Image detail: Hot air balloon from poster "Le Ballon, bulletin trimestriel de toutes les ascensions; 6me année Janvier, Février, Mars 1883. Un numéro: 75 centimes. Pour tous les états compris dans l'Union Générale des Postes. Rédaction et bureaux A. Brissonnet, Propriétaire Gérant, 127, Bd. Sébastopol, Paris. Advertising for the French aeronautical journal "Le Ballon" shows a balloon carrying two passengers flying in the clouds Chromolithograph by E. Pichot, imprimeur, Paris, 1883.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Justice
It is only with calloused hands that the heavy body can claw and leverage the self upward on the thorny vine of a life without wince and whi...
-
Natures touch is both gentle and fierce. Homo sapiens trample on her back. The thick skin impossible to pierce. So...
-
Family members, Party members, Americans and American'ts: There will be no favors! Some were lovable, some detestable at b...
-
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...

No comments:
Post a Comment