masters of the air

[revolutionR]

I once wrote a poem about asking for spare change
In those days the words turned in my head like pages
I roamed the streets looking for a king of words
I was always looking at the black birds
that flew out of my mind like a great hole in space
In those days I was looking for the sunrise
in the dead of night, as I walked along the neon avenue
talking to some invisible friend that spoke another tongue
the king of words rode on his jazz funeral throne
and I watched him go by like a lonely ghost
mouthing platitudes to the drunks wandering past
in the day time I found myself strolling along garish arcades
looking past the paper thin reality of broken clowns
who once were the masters of the air
my pockets were empty but my mind was full of phantoms
once I was the poet of hallucinations haunting books of myself

[dadio]

Intense poem & well done.