Poetic Self Pity
The poet must be such a lonely man Constantly creating images as mirrors
Of his reality,
Crying out these creatures
So that others may see.
But can not.
For his images only
Seduce the mind
From seeing the truth
For the mind is a sensualist.
A glutton.
A ravenous machine
Which consumes images
And impressions
For it's own sake.
That machine animal
Which tastes the sweetness
Of beauty,
Takes her,
Rapes her,
But never knows her.
Murders her with supposed
Understanding.

© 2/18/74
Stevon Lucero