Louis A. Borgo
Borrow Time - Poem by Louis A. Borgo
A question, a sentence all made since,
My apologies indeed,1 to the 2,3….
Can you make time a map,
A man a watch, watching it as a clock slide by,
Go seek out a dinner for me perhaps a dinner for three,
Cause what I could see was a family for me.
Is there no good or bad or have you seen no evil to know what it is sad,
Settling for less if not the reason why this pen flows,
At five o’clock in the morning just after I take a ride down to the coast,
I began to catch a feast is it time for lunch with a breeze? ,
Please just read. But I took the road not taken,
And like Robert Frost it was a demon I seen; in me.
A lyrical poem with many different poets all in one,
a rust diamond if this still is not gem, site the beach, for more discrete.
I remember a famous rapper say don’t read too deep into my rhyms,
I said to myself I know the feeling too well to be speechless to dine in and be sleepless,
This is not the white house but the light is on in this house, all the time.
This is the saddest thing to try to reason as I am floating in and out of consciousness,
In a lumpy bed watching the clock, skip a beat at five o’clock in the morning,
What a treat,
And surgery of all things staying awake listening to everescence,
Thinking to myself how this would sound better if it was duet with some R&B.
I went across the street seen the Raven but still believe in heaven,
And as I was waiting patiently a Rose grow from concrete,
How long would it grow until the end of the road I think still, and blink.
If you knew would you still search if you knew?
Could you paint a picture of the life after death only if you knew.
Can you get the greeting, and I mean all is well tell this to the Senate,
This meaning is too far-fetched to reason.
Like my favorite Poet John Milton my favorite poet without any QUSTION,
That a book tells two side to a tale, why not witness? By just listening,
Question! ! ! The life of a SENTENCE! ! !
It still makes sense somehow more or less than other.
I blinked again knowing the content of his meaning,
And arose from sleep just as a whisper in the night,
And repeated repented as needed the questions,
Indeed to answer all too well,
Being five o’clock in the morning it was a question,
A sentence it all makes sense,
One to the two, three……
I sleep with a pen but I sleep with sword! ! ! ! ...
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