To Suffer For An Imagined Art Poem by Julio 2 Amarante

All the world's may be a stage
A stage in do many plays
With roles in so different ways…

We have entrances, exits but no prompts
No hidden assistance
Only personal persistence.

Oh god of lost on life, asunder
Please give me a line,
Oh dear, stroke me with a shine.

I love life and do not live it
Alienated in my cave, as in a grave
Except there is residual ache…

Just tonight, let me awake without imagined lovers at my side,
Just once, may I not call the departed
Just once, may I not feel all this hate
Give me horses to ride
Instead of pennies in an empty pocket

As the people said, if wishes were pennies, beggars would ride…

I suffer for an art I imagined
An art not concrete, all ghosts
All nostalgia
Of may have been, not constituted.

PS may he have been informed that we are adverse to form.
Although it still exists for the many.