OK 200
I woke and saw a ceiling of lights, tubes and concrete,
And asked myself if this was Heaven?
The angels were all there,
All trapped in bubbles of wood, brick and glass,
Or worse, the happiest of them,
Between the walls of perception.
Been bathing in the sun for half an hour,
In hope that I will regain somehow my drained power.
They want me to perform on repeat,
Well what can I say, please take a seat.
O you feeble leaves of grass,
You too will be challenged at last!
I am a master of a specific type of engineering,
Maker of mirrors and poetries with symbolic meaning.
Here, gaze at your lovely reflection,
It’s worthy of any modern art collection.
Maybe one day they make a documentary:
“The winged mandrill that chased for praise at the cemetery.”
From my book Morpheus
