Mirrorball Poem by Ted Sheridan
Mirrorball
I have thoughts that I place on paper and then read aloud
Just to see if they sound as weird to me as they do to the one who owns them
For we are different people and though I can’t remember ever meeting him
He speaks to me as if we are long lost pals
His voice is always talking over my own and I somehow get the feeling
He wants me dead
So that he might occupy the open space between my ears
Once I have evacuated and been granted asylum
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 11:22:13 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Oh yeh. Those once branded lunatics later get dscribed as geniuses. Unfortunately it's usually a few hundred years after their death. So, to set the ball rolling, I'll call you one now, instead! t xx