And It Is To The Experience Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

sometimes are ache concealments
as suffering without words,
as bloody body,
which is pricking the blade.
at the theatre,
the choir is repeating folk song
man - the nonman
established his law alone.

equal,
metric,
rhythmical,
they must be.
as not,
he will be
digging,
as the mole

my sails are breaking from the gale,
but I am keeping the helm
firmly in the hand.
you won't catch up with me,
how I will be,
willing I will chase you away,
and I will push off...
not necessarily with my hand!

oratory, monologue,
on glue everything
you put crown, fell
evenly you are gluing in,
the poetry vanished
important, applause, pathos,
talentless writing...
your

you are dreaming,
cute girl.
dancing amongst
the shell
on the beach
you are dreaming
of the sweet fault,
hoping,

that something
will happen.
don't count
on it.
you didn't deserve
to teaseled.
you have forever
'redirected....'