| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Psychology >> ID #1616061 |
| |||||||||||||
|
“Illusions of Grandeur”
Born to be diagnosed brainless, I feel colorful illusions in my mind – Pictures on the wall not too tall, for I am short of sight and blind, to see the color red. My hearing, much more than powerful in my mind, greater than anyone else. The grandeur of anything I want to be. Beethoven, his music written by me. I have the pen come see it in my hand. I ‘m not deaf, there are no blotches on the page, my head banging the floor. Only sweet music, playing it on piano for you, seeing me invincible. Invited to be knighted a poet of note, captured in my mind the millionaire. My new yacht in Cannes caviar and cigars, with champagne, sparkling bubbles dancing, colored pink in the sunlight. Where to now? The Queen begging me my signature, freedom at last.
© Copyright 2009 embe (UN: embe at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
embe has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |