The Monstrous Ego or How Poetry is a Naked Person !



them beautiful struggles are like
quadruple doses of brilliant illusions
riding faithfully to the notorious feels of
being in the enterprise of lucid poetry

mystical yearnings of a unit experience
embracing words like a lover
convinced that-- this hoax would simplify things,

amused by its collectivity to define that'ness
just a blissed-out state, just this moment

that is why poetry is an adrenaline rush
a mental molestation of your fancies, your fears
your insecurities and your imaginations

poetry is a close encounter with the naked person
a girl, or a boy, that doesn't even matter

poetry is the highest compliment, the dreadful lie
poetry is reality characterized as an imbalance of abandonment

poetry smells like rotting flesh,
a new born baby or like Kathmandu when it rains

compassionate, yet fearsome
finding solace between lovers in bed
or cactus in a desert

impending darkness
exploding lightness

just the eyes of compassion
just this awareness

poetry is a naked person

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