Frug Frug Deloup the French man!

Poet



In the heart and soul  of the poet sunlight

 


Between last journey and this one

The fragile heart of mine could only

Think of  Mr. Frug - Deloup.

Looped around and around with no



Substance of what he is or what I was.


Frug- Frug-  Deloup;




I struck blindly the weakest part of  the poets - heart

The parts that are in  need of trust, security, and love.

Poet! what your life could not do in thousand weeks,


I did in a week.  this is my story , the story of a frugal me.

my blood slicked, my soul portentous, full of sorrow.

And my plan! nightmares, that would never  die

Not today or in all  tomorrows.

Poet;

Divested  it  by all the ashes of my dream.

In the debris of Mr. Frug- Frug Deloup,



the steel cold embers with aimless apathy.

in my garden full of blooming beautiful  flowers,

I felt the pathetic ashes of a dream Mr. Frug- Deloup .

Have promise, so now my fate has been decided.

Frug- Frug  Deloup;

I am a  dream of rats, a pretty scary dream of rats,

Honesty;  will be as far as the universe from my spirit.

I will nibble at you, take advantage of your heart,

Spirit and soul. I crawled up your legs, I chewed your food

Drunk your wine smelt your skin ,touched your hair..

I am a kind of a dream you wake up from with cold sweat....

Poet;

And when I woke up this morning

with the  sun shining in my heart my soul, and spirit.

Wile The rain coming down in buckets in Mr.  Frug- Deloups world.

All the voices in the world could call him now, but  the frugal  man

Would not hear them, he is counting his money,

The money he didn't spend  on Hotels , restaurants, Theatre ,

Museums, art gallery, or the play Cats; he said to expensive for him!
In the poets  world ! sunshine, sunlight, sun bright..

 

27  June 2013

Y.B