'Lectricity
It’s not the light bulb, It’s the light I love. I love when darkness Wraps me in its glove. I hear no singer In my ear It is the music That I hear And when the Music’s gone away I love the quiet Time of day. And as for touch What pleases me Is not the fingers that I feel It is their feelings That appeal. And when these feelings Go away When I end this Fleeting stay I hope that all My friends will say: He was not Blood and bone and skin He was not just The look of kin. We know the real Michael D. Was not that hairball sack He’s in… He was ‘lectricity.In this poem I do not mean to imply that I am some kind of "spark," I mean to say(although unsuccessfully) that I, we are not material, we are all just energy, the force that jumps from electrical to motion to potential to whatever? Written December 13th, 2001 © on Dec 13 2001 01:32 AM PST, same as above 0 • 13
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"It’s not the light bulb,..."