It Is Late

It is late; it's morning
I hate facts, let me dream;
Let's have hate of nothing,
Particles are geese-like flying
And southward, hawks leaving,
I stand, watch her pass; eagerly
Lake is Blue
In distance, Maid of Mist
In Eerie the ship is, motionless,
What a waste
Leave me alone, let me dream,
Fallen leaves on the ground Persian rug
I have saved injured hog, want to hug
'I'm aware it's your food...'
I tell the coyote; local fox
'Yes of course, ' I tell them
They wag tails; go with hate
See threat when they turn
No bison; things have changed
Buffalos also gone, rare are the moose-bear,
Indians are all sick, with disease of Europe
If you're around, give me wine
I want bed like a dead
I'm alive, acting fake is great
Out of mind as a dog; with rabies
I'm aware it is late, it's too late
I'm still out of bed
Much to do with sickness;
Let me shout at this world
In my thoughts to its God
Teach me words
'What the heck; what the...'
Let me sleep while writing
But awake and waiting
For the wine of divine
You sound nice; sing Chinese
I know you Chengiz Khan
Give me wine of blood
People die everywhere
F-18s in bombing

by Nassy Fesharaki

Comments (1)

Leave me alone, let me dream-excellent.Thanks. Keep writing.