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Poem

Poetry in motion
is prose 
encapsulated in 
warring thoughts,
notions conceived 
in time oscillated 
flows,
harmonically 
shifting mental 
tides to whence 
the Tasmanian 
wind never blows,
where meditating 
and trancing 
souls,fairly prowls,
like watching the 
future in an 
ancient show,
I swear the 
present is 
abstract,just 
never raw,
My intuition?All 
deja vu's ,makin' 
twelve other 
planets ma other 
home,
sighted a UFO in 
the polar zone,
thought he was 
ma other clone,
till I realise I was 
on monologue 
driftin' with 
extraterrestrials 
longer gone',
so fate played 
foul,the legend  
became of a 
kingdom lost,
an heir to the 
golden native's 
Hercynian throne,
trascended in 
rhyme,lost in 
dextrous wit' 
upon a thousand 
scrolls,
so it became a 
legacy,much like 
Troll,
that 
pathos,evaded 
the script and 
drama faded as 
the Curtain Falls,
and ma mind lost 
touch with 
protocol,
started 
developing a 
labyrinth of finer 
scopes that it 
derailed the train 
of my fibre 
thoughts...
Now am 
here,waiting for 
diviner calls,
wishing on 
asteroids to 
fall,making 
summer snow...

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