Rationality Is Way Over-Rated

Every true poet is my muse. Their poems, The cannon fodder of dreams exploded, (Feed me a dark crow) , even if they walk With only one leg, or have to be carried In the arms of, on the back of a friend. Even if they have forgotten their purpose, And only in fleeting lucid moments, Remember their days as a poet, Who could make sunshine last forever, A mere smile into Christ's death on the cross, I swear to God I will love him/her till death. And you, you blackguard of Hell's gate, This is your punishment, God's justice. I bite off your head and spit the bitterness out. I drink the warm blood of your still flapping body, A flagon of the sweetest wine at a wedding feast, My white shirt now bright red with your blood. In your days of merciless flight, did you ever dream That your death would bring such pleasure? ! Oh let me till death bring fear to the black heart Who cannot distinguish me from its next victim, Just by knowing I await you too, like Dexter. (1) And you, heart of every poet, dare to dream Of an absence of crows in blue skies For this is God's Grace that awaits you. Embrace the irrational, for the joy it brings, We are truly the children of God. In its time, what is low will be lifted up. God is real and His Love is your reward, Be your words without rhythm or rhyme, For your words are the words of a poet. And I do feel (though I am old and getting older) , You have a well earned place in my heart. Rage with Dylan ‘against the dying of the light, ' Like a child rest your head on my thigh, Rationality is way over-rated, Just open your heart to my poem and you'll see.