Nobody’s making attempts anymore
to stir a peace of roses.
Individual daffodils and bunches of sage
challenge shields of rage
hidden under profaned altars
of compromised innocence;
piled mountains of drowned chariots
awaiting another exodus to chase…
I nearly fell for you Delilah,
but I am blind you see,
incapable of discerning
between a hairdresser and barbers.
Nights of shattered crystals
call for vengeance,
and Picasso crying
shards of broken Guernicas
over forgotten mind fields…
It’s always midnight
on the side of treason;
either too early,
or too late
to find another door…
Don’t ever leave your clothes outside
when told to take a shower…
THEORETICAL PHILOSOPHY 