on keats

a forest song
the trees resonate
a darkness evill
at birth created
by abscense

a melodious hallucinogenic
who dares respond?
just run away from it
a beautiful nightingale
could never make one flee
from it or question its being

but poets minds still wander
from the trees whose oak roots laid down
rooted in the same ground
that gives way to sea
oh happy me
pure Solitare never once spare
 a single tear of melancholy

but one of acidic toxin
mixed in drink
and poets too think it poison
i took the song with the whole
that fearing the beast under
my picnic table releases

its hold it has on me
a tear of  fire
never ceases to flame
the passions
the girls that i have eyes on
but can gently recreate a crippled land
for men now blind to see with its song
the far horizon