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  • Andrey Psyche

Brand New Old

So I'm back to writin' rhymes

Not the sames one that I find

Laying round the rivers bend

Or the park,

Please understand

There have been a few encounters

Bunch of laughter, bunch of friends

What I found is stepping backwards brings me back to Promise Land

But like others that I've met

I would claw, and bite, to fend

Off the wanting to re-counter

The same moments n'which I've floundered

Grounded from my wingless flights

To what end?

To pure delight!

Might not make a lick of sense cus the path

It winds and bends

In a second, stepping stones

Turn to quicksand, and you're gone

That's why I must stay above it

To consistently be changed

From the one I grew to notice

To the one behind the scenes

What I have to understand

Is the entirety of spectrums

From ascetic lacerations,

Blasphemy and boisterous dreams,

Self indulgence, pure obsession

And the rest that rests between.

All lead out, they're all the same

Purity of matter matters

So do minds that form this dream

See the heart

Don't mind the clutter

Try to ride and hug the seam

Balance is your final treasure

Balance is that final thing

What you learn will get you this far

What you leave will bring the means.

Poetry by Psyche


© 2018 Andrey Psyche

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