A man I met
who likes the odd drink
Told me to believe only half of what I see and
nothing of what I read
I try not to be the average blue collar and take
ink as the messiah, vision as concrete
I still read, look with intense eyes
I wish I had wings and the power to be wherever I
want when I want; like a ghost who can see everything as it happens
Then maybe I could believe
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is not good. It's almost a cliche'. If you want to see a real poet check out my stuff. Regards, Scott.