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  • NOBLE POETRY  

  • IT WOULD ME NICE

     

    Perhaps there are still Men somewhere, for only Time and fashion are ever changing - but not the virtues! It may be that the revelry of wicked, wicked vigilantes will last somewhere for a long time to come - yet in the depths of glowing souls romantic hopes still burn and live: while in the word of one another's bawdy ornery hangmen Don Quixote swears his love...

    Circumstances have long since changed, fateful and lowly. In me, I have not grown, like the crackling oak of my bones, to stand my ground and stand the beaten mud in defiance! Behind my clown-mask only my true being's tear-striving charms may be revealed!

    I have fought many battles, and if need be I have fought, I have withstood the squinting siege of faking witnesses, of sly linguists - who, according to sympathy, hand each other the career-handcuffs, and the merit-threshold!

    My life has been in dignified retreat since I myself was allowed to guard my manuscripts: I have been forced to avoid man with the handcuffing instincts of legitimate fear - and yet I am constantly present to observe and photograph his strange movements in the world, his unusual grotesque mimics in society.

    As new deeds, eccentric gestures, innovative, avatgarde ideas, new spleen-thoughts, nestled in my brain. For, though I am called a diligent hermit by many, I yet hope that there may be noble and true men among men who look upon each other as their rightful friends - and not merely as their interests!

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