Pauper’s Parade

“Where ideas were always meant to thrive
In their isolation they come alive….”

Wealth is not measured
By what you bury in a bank
Wealth is a treasure
Measured from within.
Life is a measure
That holds no rank.
It is not the truth
I’m trying to bend.
But the fountain of youth
I seek in the end.
My thoughts they march
To the beat
Of dancing feet.
Where ideas were always meant to thrive
In their isolation they come alive.
High above the shade of 
A pauper’s parade.
But Old Jester, he turned a trick
He was somewhat slick
In a game he played
With his slight of hand
For the fool he planned
A simple quote
One in which he wrote
With charm and a schtick
Lest his imaginary sidekick.
Somewhere his secret sits patient
Where his words are no longer kept skeptic.
.
Poetic Past v.24 / ca. 2017
-Be Love-

Mondo Cozmo / “Shine”

 

 

 

 

 

 

View All

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s