youth
is a brain that thinks little
and feels a lot.
it knows how to enjoy holidays
because it doesn't know.
nothing tells it "you can't
be silly and dreamy and Young".
nothing tells it grow up
because time makes no apologies.
it's a crowned age
golden
good
gay
sought after once it's lost
like a warm little ray
of a sun that has set.
the senile tell us
enjoy till you can
yet a young brain thinks nothing
of the future day
except for getting upset it can't drink, drive, nor swear.
soon
too soon, really
fun turns serious
loses its fluff
one starts trying to win
and forgets to have fun
the road becomes bumpy
each day feels like a brawl
a crown is the value of the game now
not the game the value of the crown.
shiny distractions stay in one's hands for long days, collecting dust
and one stares at them with pride
for owning pieces of pyrite
fool's gold
empty inside
it just shines
like plastic that pretends to be water
you watch the gay have fun
you watch life bubbling jolly
and it feels like a precious memory
that you wish was more than that.
the good gold gay old days
still exist in your withered soul
it's all that teaching and molding
that's made life taste foul.
despondency binds your wings
once free they were, yet small
now they've grown big - with you -
but how to answer the call?
of that bubbly jolly spirit
that fell asleep, withered, in thrall.
.
.
.
26.1.24, 15.2.24 (opublikowany 15.2.24)
CZYTASZ
heart beats
Poezie~ poezje itp ~ w gruncie rzeczy, jesteśmy worami mięsa, kości, i flaków. ale w tym worze mieści się mózg, a mózg to wciąż niezbadana złożoność, która z prostego wora potrafi uczynić święty graal. the heart beats/heartbeats/heartbeat: serce bije, ser...
