We snake our way
Through the city side streets
Like adorable criminals;
We prowl as sleek as cats
To the dark bars
And dig underground jazz;
Our memories guide us
Like well-marked maps
To hidden basement retreats
Where everyone drifts
Into another existence,
Charting their souls’ evolution
To this moment of lurid experimentation.
Don’t breathe too long
The fetid air of normalcy,
Too many walk like living corpses
In this conformist society,
Everyday making down payments
On their burial plots,
But I refuse to allow this
To be my lot…
My spirit demands originality
And I’m seeking to understand
My immortality following vague traces
Glimpsed from illusion and trance
And near-death experiences.
I know of these places well Uriah, my late husband haunted them, rather than socialise in the glitzy spin of the streets, it is these places that we find the most interesting conversations with like minded hermits looking for sactuary imo. Smiling at you, nice and easy? Not, but easily sleazy? Most definitely Yes! Tai
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I was actually holding my breath reading this one Uriah. Very spiritual, wonderful message centred therein. Great stuff. Love Ernestine XXX