repost with edit.

 

the page before me,

essential in the hour of triumph,

in that of fierceness

in the share of native energy

throughout the contests,

in that of bloodthirstiness –

get like meditational

in the investment inks

in the auto-biographical

bringing the links

in the realm of the quiet,

as a modest writer

walkin’ in homely lanes

in the winds of atmosphere,

with a little harvest ripe

from the blowpipe

as a literary man

in the settlement

of a mix in the marketplace

from a little arms race

amongst civilized society

with a little firepower,

just to feel like

i can belong somewhere

to open doors

leaving my brand

in a seamstress move.