Alive

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  • Life

    Alive

     Don't worry about me
    You won't find me anyway
    And don't think it's because you don't see me
    Who am I to say these things?
    Aren't you reading me now?
    Y esto lo oyes de un gringo no tan guüero
    El gabacho y Ollanta
    Sleep between these green pages
    Feeding all animals
    Until we're hungry
    Maldiga el hombre
    Curse those who can't love
    But love what you hate
    Don't make the ladder to your heart so tall and narrow!
    God is dead for now!
    We are alive!

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    curtusowen’s Poems (3)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    Eyes 0 07/07/2009
    Alive 0 07/07/2009
    the vida broka 0 07/06/2009

    curtusowen’s Friends (2)

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