What do we need the ones that go for
the ones that leave us alone
within this madness
We aren't even playing
and certainly avoid the bombs
if we can
Age could have been the answer
But you will never know
The plants impeded your view
Selfmade obstruction
Not even pityful
Pathectic, really
We're still alone and trying
defending the grounds in silence
and it does hurt, man
© 2015
To Johnny's friend
ten years too late
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You see, here you'll find poems and prose of opportunity and seasons. They're ours, though, so we have to protect them. Respect! Thank you!
Readers are welcome! If you are willing to follow the iconian path, you should know that it is always you we are talking to, even if it is not. And that everything is true, even if it is not. We all are eternally united in the last space possible where even the impossible is real. We ought to believe the foretold: If we'll meet tomorrow, next year, or never, it doesn't matter, it's only time! And everything, even time is fiction.
By the way, typos and other mistakes - we know there are many. If you can be bothered, please let us know. Thank you! And for any legal issues, please contact us before we have to tell you that we're skinned. But you can also write, of course, if you like what you read. Please, write to the webmaster.
