Starland

Starland




I lived in Starland

 With all the fellow saviors and saints

 choosing patiently to divide the grate and canister 
                       barren fellows without knowledge or understanding

of desire 
 A church fiend whatcha call it
 detailed features

 I was flying intrinsically away from the cauldron

  flaming in my sephis mind

 The beautiful midnight glory



 reminding me every time




-KD 





Poetry to me has always been away to express creative identity otherwise not known in the current world we live in. We are so oppressed as to what we can do, about our inner relationships. 



To prove me anything, I first need an example of the subject, or substance. Something to grasp onto, to remind me that it indeed can be a real form of something, and that to me is a poets meaning.