[ freaky poem ]
Wish I can write poetry about the best matches in the world
or burnt holiday meal, a pity to throw away but you can't eat.
People's hearts always gratefully open to simple and vital things
dictated by true compassion and wise indulgence
to man, a real and regular man in his daily trifles and troubles.
People love an affectionate song descending to their living.
It's a shame that I really don't care
for the problems of real people neither, probably, real life.
If it be so, every one would love my poems
and I were constantly asked: please do! do it a little more!
Alas! -- freaky poems of mine reveal freaky problems of solely mine.
They are mainly about love in its turn into loathe
or the future that transforms to the past
or my God (let's finally face it!), my poor and has-been God --
Once in a blue moon I wonder what happened to Him,
how He's doing there with no me
since the best thing ever come to my life was found totally wrong...
But I would leave the whole world -- including the gift of poems
about the beautiful matches -- to prevent it from being true.
8-9/01/21