Lost (unfinished)

Posted on January 27, 2022August 30, 2023 by Le Flaneur

A  treacherous course the cerebral craze
Which offers clear praise 
For a pure ventured gaze 

My boat was adrift
Fast was too slow  
Slow was to fast
It takes a sailor 
    To reach 
The ball of the mast  

Such delicate delight her dutiful ways
From lips thru the maze 
For a pure ventured gaze 

My boat was adrift
Fast was too slow  
Slow was to fast
It takes a sailor 
    To reach 
The ball of the mast  


Should it have been, or could it have been                          


                                                                Châz

September 2023

I started this poem more than 3 years ago. I’m trying to say something. I hope to find my voice, soon.

A Modern Flâneur

I am a stroller, walker, wanderer, idle and dispassionate observer of the vulgar and sullen sceptre of human repair. I will back-up, swerve, curve, climb or descend to near or far, but never to go straight and rarely slow to step outside the alien apathy of the freshly colonized collective hubris of modernity.

I have emerged from the bohemian shadows, neither fish nor fowl, absent such suffocating boundaries as the flesh, incarnate from the repressed shallows of a disparate society to reanimate a new space born deep within my consciousness of restraint; to render a clarion call. I am no longer the ambient observer of remote urbanity, but modernity on my own path to source all life's nuances both fleeting and remis.

Châz

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