Poem: The Repentant Philosopher

I remember the last time I cried
how I watched silent laughter swirl around at my embarrassed feet
I gave all these lessons away with an elegant irony of a pre-winter thaw,
despaired not at the maintenance of sweet pain and patience, but of innocence regained.
forgivers blanket pavement o'saltwater tears that shape
mosaics of lost minds,
that knew too much of what people can do to hurt each other.

apples & oranges,
lemons & limes,
who care about truth,
so long as it rhymes?

Did you hear that?
It’s the lyrics of evaporation ascending;
distrust dissolves beneath the cover of clouds making love,
gratitude never drinking from the foundations of needless pain.
dissemination of negativity lore is a rent veil rummaging around inside of me;
never meant for hearts to endure a single beat
without soul.

A quieter savor of free,
never was meant to be.
"How beautifully tragic is the written poem of love
that dries its ink in thee ice-cold well
of what once and always
was me”
has an irregular address
undelivered mail
describing my love frees others from their chains
open smile harmonics,
don’t change for me the neighborhood you don’t jog through.
these stairway days of care for me,
i’m not Carl Jung’s = Client Science.
sun pours down like water,
gratitude of surprise society of brains
conformed to the rule of breaking rules
silentnights for violent types demanded I crawl into
clouds that I “fit” in, made sounds for me to sit in, nodding my head to music,
get in a plane to get the dough from the world that makes little sense of a Clement
and whose quilt was sewn with a picture and words,
“too gentle to live among wolves”, yet was never their victim

he never forgot himself as he loved others,
never morphed the long night to forget that their and his own pain are equal.
Primitive religion is redundant,
so is the Repentant Philosopher.