Kalikapsychosis - "Perfection is what its about. When you can feel, the perfection, of creation. The beauty of physics, the wonder of mathematics all the elation of action, and reaction, and that is the kind of perfection that I want to be connected to" - Sam, hooked into the data stream

I once loved a singer,
I loved him pure an true,

he serenaded me in deep night,
he helped my blood run free,

I never saw his face not once
In those dark shadowed nights.

Oftentimes, I'd see a feathered fellow,
with a similar chirp,

I'd listen well, and appreciativly,
not mistaking the sound

But still in the end, I remained sure,
the late night bird was not found.

Years (and years) go by,
and I lament your passing,

your sweet voice that trilled to me
O'er lonely nights.

One morn, awash in sun,
I sit in my house of words

As I write in my new fashion
but in my old way

through the reflective window
a flashing glimpse catches my eye.

I stop. I watch.
The antics of the bird clown.

His tail says wig wag,
and his eyebrows say zig zag

wings flash fast its plain to see -
he's having more fun than you and me.

All proper in his black and white tux-
The wag tail has his laugh.

I watch this one, fine friend,
play in the window,

catching bugs.
Little fellow irritably perches -

Looks me square in the eye -
AND

Whispers and trills,
murmers and thrills.

The song is sweet, full
richly drunk on its own perfect melody,

and though the sun shines bright
around me it is the dead of night

for this little man revealed to me -
the secret singers identity.

The little helper, and friend
who with deft, workmanlike swiftness,

Eats flies from horses hot legs
stirring softly in the shade,

little flocks of little birds
bring some relief,

such as that same sweet refreshment,
I drank when the hour was none

And a voice from the dark night
so happy to be alive,

bade me....
Thou art not so strange....

To stay up all night
to always write

to draw pornish art
allow unholy arousal to start

to use it all for inspiration.
Power in creativity....

He sang to me....
And so day became night,

and memory lost the fight.
I smiled at my little friend,

(unbelievably, you found me -
were with me all along - )

a little voice to remind me -
Purity. Joy.

And my greatest power is
my difference. Weirdness. Wildness

And....
Creativity.

Revealed by the ability to be.......
Inspired.....