I have
fallen,
KRIKITIM!
From my
place at your knees
In the dream
Too good to
be over
The same one
in which we met at the red junctions and strolled
Down the
nape of the Wanzam
You were
gracious when you finally bit him
That he
began to dance before remembering his song
His dance
was as contorted
As the song
you taught him and
Soon the
whole village was audience
I have
fallen,
KRIKITIM!
To my place
at your knees,
In this life
Too hard to
be short
This same
one in which I dream
To be King
Of your
marinated thoughts
If I write
the Odyssey,
If I wrote
my Odyssey,
You would be
Calypso
Your voice
would keep Olympus demented
And our hero
would be home sooner
You would
sing for me and
You would
have a willing King and prisoner
For there are
days when a man
Would give
many things
To read the
riddles in a deity’s eyes.
I have
fallen,
KRIKITIM!
In this
silhouette of your hair
When you let
it down to confuse anger
The same
ones
That stem
from the depths of your mind,
That ink pot
with which
You splatter
the world with love
You are that
kind deed
I would
gladly do to humanity every day,
That stutter
I would have,
Always,
To remind me
that I have fallen
KRIKITIM!
Right before
you
To the
breaking of my vow
To stand
firmly behind you
My Poetic
Love
Maybe I
should cease telling all my dreams
And this one
might end well
