Bow To The Delirium Poem by Marc Hurkmans

Bow To The Delirium



Learning to give,
and learning to try

Learning to live,
and learning to cry

Learning to see, through the eyes
of brother Death’s forsaken spies

When I saw you walking down the street,
chances were good we’d find nothing to eat

Paradise lost, in some western town,
with folded hands, laughing like a clown

The poet gets nailed to the sailor’s floor,
once and for all, he is not a bore

Learning to sail across empty skies,
learning to fly, learning to fly

Like an albatros

And then I’m falling down

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