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(15 December 1973 / London, England)

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Vanished

I saw what vanished from under the nose
Of feathers that crawl beneath the soul of roses;
Nothing reminds me of the days ahead,
On this stage I commit my jokes and laughter
To fuse with the concepts of disgust, worry and deceit.
I have seen the Unseen with bold eyes,
Internal eyes shall stare at the venomous words,
Deeds are internal like the succumbed ones.

I saw that the phantoms of disgust beheld our activities,
Broad and skinny, the ghouls of the past passed into
A joke of some sort, and a joke is only too simple
When ghosts are afoot with existences and joys
Of the late art, of the late art, of the late artists.

Submitted: Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, December 10, 2013


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