this poetry is a hiding place <br />the only nook left for me <br />running away from <br />every creature of the <br />party, <br /> <br />i take my time <br />and i do not really mind <br />what i write <br />whether i rhyme <br /> <br />this is another monologue <br />something i keep saying to myself <br />how can i like this and that <br />how can i tell you <br />about what i want to say to you? <br />there is no way <br />no place no society <br />there is no other entrance <br />or exit <br />from these tangles and <br />strangles <br /> <br />it is strange i mumble <br />i scramble and dabble <br />talking to myself <br />and pleasing myself <br />this is my corner <br />i keep talking and talking <br />you watch the tv series <br />you cry alone and i do not mind <br />if tears flood in this room <br /> <br />this is my place this is my silence <br />this is the poetry of escapism <br /> <br />i assume the shape of the bird's wing <br />i keep on flying without having to find any place <br />any island any sea any shore <br /> <br />the words keep coming, they do not go anywhere <br />anyway, that is how it is intended to be <br />nothing for nothing <br />talking and talking <br />somewhere everywhere <br />alone and everybody <br /> <br />the rain pours heavily on me <br />no one gets wet no one runs for shelter <br />no one really cares <br />halter swelter<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-poetry/
