Insomnia

How then shall I sleep and dream,
when I close my eyes those scenes stream unabated clip by clip
from memories of the times I wasted?

Youthful follies say the wizened old
who lived in times of long ago when paths were certain 
with well-planned markers paved upon the way.

Dreams were simply monsters pushed back into closets 
      and hidden under beds;
prim and proper ruled the day and eschewed the night,
forgotten whimsies used to frighten wayward children.

Obligations interfered when the storm of you came rushing in
to crash against the breakers on the beach of duty to my class,
with walls of aristocracy preventing breaches ~

There is no room for pauper poets in those mansions
far above the stormy shore.

longinglost lovefree verse

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