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Poem

I CRIED A TEAR; WHAT ELSE COULD I DO

Somebody loves me; I should be so happy.
At night when others are sleeping;
I’m so alone.
   Tears run down my face;
   I cry for those who are unfortunate;
   But no tears do I shed for me.
I don’t know who to ask anymore;
I’ve asked God to explain;
I’ve cried out to my ancestors by name;
   I’m still here;
   But no matter who is here with me;
   I’m still alone.
I asked the gypsy to tell my fortune;
But I see her looking at my face;
She’s looking for clues.
   Sitting before my Shakespearean mirror;
   I make up my sad face
   The star reader predicts that happiness is at hand.
Today I ran out of syrup for breakfast.
So I consumed smoked fish;
And swilled down Gallo wine.
   Perhaps you dare to label me as Schizophrenic and a Sociopath;
   It’s only reflections from my mirrors;
   You’re only seeing what life tries so hard to hide.
Are you looking at what is real?
And who pray tell sets those limits;
And more importantly; to whose advantage?
   But back to my emptiness;
   Does anyone have an answer for me?
  Can but one of you, give me a new angle to work with?
I keep on searching and I’m growing old
I’ve been up and down; and over and out;
But I’m still here not letting go; and alone.
   Don’t trip it though;
   It’s just another riff I came up with.
   Like some of the notes I make up while playing guitar.
PEACE!

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