Rules of the game
They aren't posted
Like in the doors of stores
No shirt
No shoes
No service
But it is a learned thing
I understand that we all must be concerned
But where I come from
The village raise the child
Poetry is a world unto its self for sure
So it isin't the real world
Or is it
Do we each bring a little of it with us
To spoil the creative mix
An open mind
Is just that
Open
I have found out I am guity as charged
You meet so many minds here
It took me a long time to figure out
Just becuase you have a point of touch
On that plain of mind
Does it not mean they will be there the next day
And if you find someone you love to read and comment all the time
Alert
Might be a stocker
Its funny those that warned me of the fleeting mist here
Were the fisrt to slide
Not the attachment of thought
But that it might be more
That has skipped past me more than once
But I see this so clearly now
And to the oppisite feel
Their are those that are on point
To see you to
As who you really are
Gripping is it not
That the human mind
Can take a ciber arena
And make it real in and invisible focus
Who are we not to bless those that bless us
I gather it now as it all comes home
Yes their are rules and points of trespass
Walls we seem to need to stay safe in a place
That may not exist
We may not exist
Is this someones theatrical dream
Where pens dance the words in making merry
To those that have touched my path
Love
To those I have not touched
Love
To those that need a kind thought or word
Love
Is it real
I don't know
But yes we have rules
And yes please strech your self
So we strech our rules
No shirt
No shoes
No service