Dark blue sky
if you could write private things
you could write
a love poem
about the moon and stars,
that shoot across the sky
fantastic comets
from heaven
in colours purple and gold
leaving behind them
A blazing trail
of fire
but it’s what’s left unsaid
in the dark quiet
in the park on a bench
alone
bored maybe
thinking about
watching a movie or something
But sitting down at your desk
to write in your black book
things, things
even those you don’t want anyone to read
after all a diary
is sacred
Such as light.
perhaps the erotic scrawlings
of Celeste
are best
left unspoken
at the bottom of some
dark chamber
then there’s the asylum
the head shrinks
stability and trust
never mind lust
and work is a must
you miss you fuss
you hiss you huss
you blush you shush
you walk don’t rush
Oh really I could go on
But I want it to be short
Few words to express
the simplicity
of fools.
