July 18, 2012

It’s good I guess that guilt  ignore me

And better, that  regret may

forget me after it all goes down.

Actually,  clowns,

Are surely cloistered  in cells near,

Watching  the latches,

Keen for keys that wait inside them,  some

Compromises, cast in a cold metal fit.

Here’s the thing;

The king knows nothing if not

To let them spring it open,

Anxious, toward the lights,  past massive

Ancient doorways,

And they then set off to make fun for themselves.




“Baby, When you’re holding me

You’re somehow saying  ”Set me free’ “                -Chaka Kahn



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