the beautiful lamp

I can't access the rules
the tall one
that blocks sunrise
and the red dunes of the world's
blurred footsteps...
who wins a nude pink fortress
or a book within without pagination?
or a samurai rainbow?
it is the dusk of mystery…
I love the non~conformist
painting a self portrait in morning mist
with the lion's kiss
in his left hand...
meanwhile commuters with faith in computers
hover undercover like deceitful
pistols...
the north star is north of nowhere
hanging vaguely over a silver blue lake on a string...
our habitual carnival
eats twilight in the black kitchen
where the web of stars
full of wanderlust longs for neon
underwear...
it is because I dare:
the gothic lagoon...
the tiger's red fedora...
the wind's blue eyes...
a warm wasting away
after playtime...
that the temptation never far behind
is selling bread
backstage...
all in all and none in some...
I underline

I uphold
the beautiful lamp...