Blind in Bloomsbury
The city calls my chimes of confidence in chains
The rush hours reveal my raw reality of resurrection
The innumerable people are my immaculate indigenous illumination of life when it rains
Their faces unveil my fear of the fast society where I have to fight for my freedom
In town my tears won't fall down 'cause everybody is a little timid and tensioned
Go your own way of wonder, wealth in the urban wilderness of wild wisdom
The sincere souls won't stare at me when I fall down but strive for my thrive of stone that I silently mentioned
The labyrinth of lamp posts is my line of luckiness that I lure in the lane of dim light in the dark of the cities in dust
Despite the liberal and independent spirit of the city hall, my self-supporting gutter ghost is the best traffic light of life in town
Reacties op dit gedicht
| Darius: | Donderdag, maart 15, 2007 21:54 |
| Geweldige beginrijm steeds! "my immaculate indigenous illumination" ik vraag me af of je die woorden alleen hebt gebruikt vanwege de beginletter... anders lijd je wel een beetje aan grootheidswaanzin (hoewel, doen we mss allemaal in ons eigen gedachten). Erg goed Jos! Mag ik vragen hoe oud je bent? |
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| MayadeBij*: | Maandag, maart 05, 2007 13:22 |
| :) Top. | |
Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: Jos Santen | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: Marina | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 05 maart 2007 | ||
| Thema's: | ||