Lost…

At any cost,

Found before the frost,

Across the trail I have criss-crossed,

Find me please before my brains, like a salad, get tossed…

Door…

Leading nowhere,

But each do in the end,

Lead they must to another plain,

This short you may not comprehend,

Nor do I, my meaning is not to condescend…

Bulb…

A light of an idea,

Sometimes brought forth while releasing diarrhea,

Better to live in democracy than in Eritrea,

Bright are my thoughts when I envision Cytherea…

Dull…

Is the knife blade of muse this night,

Not much do I make of sense except in the light,

Beyond that my poetry may seem to you a fright,

But to me it has some meaning,

Possibly it is because of the direction I am leaning…

          © ed ~ 6/2/05