This is Schizophrenic Diatribe VII?
Morpheus internal, it's all okay to be,
Without doing, just vague ambiguous BEING!
This cloudless head, hazy non-sunrise, just looking
At the gray sky. Trepidation footsteps wander
To and fro, unsought seeking unlikely journeys.
When drove my Morpheus away, I asked aloud,
"Why waited I? What fear? Why still here?" Unanswered.
Situation unspecific, but that's okay.
Distrustful, ill-earned mulct! What price for clarity?
Pressed wrong buttons? All undone cannot be forgiven.
Insecure I spoke, but did insincere I feel?
Cattle-approached gates found to be locked up and wait.
Well-deserved fate uncursed, acceptable now.
And in respect I sit, respectful distance sit.
Grateful of friendship I cannot afford to lose.
Once-defying sheep that deemed the winning streak break,
I follow wild caprice and contradictory,
Doom not destroy unprovokable without love;
Silvery lakes of camaraderie rest me.
Repentance for Morpheus ignored. Ah, my friend!
Moses' disapproval and Kon'ca's morphine eyes
Cannot see balance though my lunatic mishap,
Nor can I. It seems inappropriate to be--
Without knowing--just BEING! Finally I know:
Unbefriended lost! And now, Away I must go.
This poem has been published in my anthology, Mangled Doves.
http://www.amazon.com/Mangled-Doves-Todd-Mikosh/dp/0557301807/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271219674&sr=8-1
Can you smell the Tennyson in my socks?
Y!A wanted to put this question in "Cars and Transportation>Makes>Lincoln."
Are they saying something about Ford products?