Some are born

 

Some are born for money and some for poetry.

Poetry is slowly cooked in casseroles,

It has a smell that makes you want more

Poetry nurses new borns

Kneels down to tie ballet shoes before a show

and paints with a long soft brush.

When you say – stock market

I hear lib-ra-ry

When you talk about pension

my wool loops on my knitting sticks

Nothing can be said when I lean on poetry.

 

Many seafarers, land looters

seek for it

Eventually they will realize –

no tree can thrive on a ship,

no root can take in the sea of money.

 

Poetry is a flower most people are allergic to

found on hill tops only a few can climb

Its bright petals open like a velvet toilet paper

rolling down the hill, falling to the bottom

wiping tears of happiness and misery

and some even use it for their bottoms...

 

Poetry is the best preparation for death

thus – the best life one can ever have

There is nothing you say when I lean on poetry

(As long as you, my lover, are on my lap).