Visions of A New Day

strange visions
go so far as to know themselves
but not far enough to be themselves
never twisted, never sewn
taken aback by the words that speak and fly
but never visualize into existence

I can see a sight
or know a plight
but where can sight fly to when it is all forgotten?
I know only those things that I feel inside; I know my eye within my soul.
And that very eye I know so well
is far beyond the reach of self

It is almost painful to become a sultry wasted son
bent on loving yet broken in love
It is almost dreadful to know nothing of self
tasting peace but face to face with a black and charred dove

I see pragmatically through objective reason
which is high held treason considered by some
but none is more knowing than eyes of the words that be
the worlds that be or the powers that see not

perhaps a song or a limerick or a poem
can save the souls of the sorry and sold
never have words been so ideal
never have ideas been so real
to the lives of the men whose eyes have been peeled

perhaps a kick to the backside
writhed and written deep within
will shape the path that we all do seek

there are no leaders in this day and age
there are no soldiers fighting for sage
sight is blocked by plight and gold
and love is held by those who scold
yet I exist, and I can feel
so that must make my senses real