An epitaph for the poem I thought of last night

(An epitaph for the poem
 I thought of last night)

Unfortunately written cloaked,
in the guise of - a
ghost of: a poem...

Rather than a mega
dream, of which many have
graced the neurotransmitters

of my damaged brain. (read
previous poems if ya don't believe
it, ya). It, the 'unwritten'

poem, asked then pleaded
to be writ. Tho' when I
put - well, thought of putting

my hand out to grab pen +
paper - I knew no pen was
there. As I was in bed,

with the cover/duvet covering
my head to shield out the
light of this bleedin' gorgeous

day. So I let it reverberate
thru' my mind in words -
not images - just words.

The thing is, unlike - uncalled
for poems - spur of the mo thangs,
like this; it (the thought/dream

poem) was complete: absolutely
whole. Really it was more
aliken'd to a song. With

Music - ? No. It stated everything
I felt in a most succinct simple
format. That it would have

been a joy to write it.
Even if, cos of my forgetfulness
I would've lost it

half way thru'
and strived to keep
it going - substituting the

beautiful succinct words/feelings
for what I could interpret
from that fleeting sense of

knowing but not realising;
liken unto the phrase 'it's
on the tip of my tongue'.

Hey, I still retain the
scars from it (mental though
they are) as it inspired

me, as did 1 litre of cider
(gosh satan how surprising), Romania
versus France on tv. And

previously surfing the net on
Stephen King's 'The Green Mile'
Home Page. Cosmic. Still Unremembered.

75% = 4 litres Human Blood
if I should die.....
..... ......  ....... ........

......I pray the lord my soul
to take
God Bless.  ................