(he shouts about politics, while we have here about poetry)
....he read that
mine poetry about this poverty
the stupidity started scolding me
declared instantly me-moi as its enemy
its words, so absurd
a lunatic so terrific
not its area nor its section
I oft write in Dutch and this is mine declaration
I do now one step lower
from "it" I step a bit lower down to "his"
his profession does not read poetry
but he thought he could read
poetry poesy and poems
true very pity
not his art nor his profession
he meddles in everything
mine poetic wings, not his thing
Oft to my Queendom he comes
he thinks he could reign me
that was his greatest mistake
he thought he could read
I too thought that he could read
but....I was mistaken
mine loved friend said he loves to read
I too thought that he loves to read
it seemed so, it looked so
but....I was mistaken
after having walked amongst this poverty
I must conclude in tears and tragedy
this is the worst and most tragic comedy
I ever knew after my literal study
after he read my poetry
in the darkest café while drinking wild wine
he copied the full title of mine poetry
"Saddest about the poverty nowadays"
and instantly mailed me,
that I started talking about politics
I thought he could read poetry
but....I was mistaken
my loved one never knew
the alienating appearance of this blind male
I wrote about true poetry and its poverty
he associated with politics
once again here I repeat my last poem's title
"Saddest about the poverty nowadays"
his unwanted eyes are peeping constantly
copying my poem, the constant liar
he read mine poetry
I wrote about the poverty in poetry
instantly he started shouting about politics
just like this fake person
he has that poverty I have in mind
about vocabulary, grammar, and all that kind
I thought he could read poetry
I was mistaken
he was peeping constantly
at mine poetry
I wrote about words, nouns
the present and the past
and all the tenses
it pained all my senses
when he accused me of politics
of yelling at innocent persons
shouting at innocent poets
not mine strife in this forsaken life
I am suffering from pain
restrained
I thought he was clever
I am now mistaken forever
Oft I asked my lover
do you wish to know who he is?
he is all there darkest is, except God's Bliss
a constant stalker, an insane chatter
an aliphatic androgyne appearance
this is the biggest difference….
Photography by Sylvia Frances Chan: "Winter-Mourning Landscape"
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright Protected
AD.Wednesday the 17th of January 2018.
@ 8.43 hrs.A.M. West-European Time