Sunday, July 01, 2001

Peter Wilson

The Unspoken Word

The enthusiasm of a sentimental kind
Full-dressed in broad daylight
A splendid mendacity distinguished in fashion
Is a toil of a faithful companion
The undertones of a half world
In the midst of surroundings
Where sweet idle lies flows the spring of sorrow
A mere form of words within the breast of sympathy
There is the toil without formality
A silver plate neither rhyme nor reason
Of words spoken at a shadow
Peculiar to itself, there are tears for things
Work and play, love and hate are one and all of the same
It will be pleasant to recall this some day
Diamond cuts diamond, ignorant by ignorance
A fallacious debate through adversity to the stars
A potential existence in empty space
I know not what; it doesn't follow
Everything unknown come in! Tomorrow
How do I know? What does it matter?
It's pleasant to play the fool sometimes, while I breathe

Peter Wilson: Fellow schizophrenic and poet

Rachel Harper Joseph Colin Van Der Woude William Cannon Rae Burton Peter Wilson

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