#422 - Tchaikovsky’s life, by the critics blighted

 

22.ii.21

422

2.53

Tchaikovsky’s life, by the critics blighted

or

those who do things differently

 

are naturally

puffed at the hilltop

now careering

 

mocked, but what of?

 

those who go down in the dark alone

have found the lovelier light

 

those live the dream

some puff

is theirs the same as weather?

 

here’s the train

who knew

one day would live in this building beside?

someone converted the sea’s roar

and weightless in orbit

up to us

 

so many wish to wipe a smile

come quickly in

trill frippery in the city of bling

 

the remarkable are rarely

kings or queens, tycoons

generals, saints or much medallioned

 

go down forgotten too

ideas all stolen

but someone first felt

they ache like the others in a floruit

 

and brush the tar for feathers yet

sit the night in stocks

 

maligned, the antidote of spite

 

the wordsters, self made of course

those who can imagine themselves

they for the sunshine and sorrows

do they go more deeply down?

 

will they get to choose where they’re stuck?

unaccountable

muck of the regiment

end of a bayonet for the murkwits

 

require the odd and coloured socks

they are the charm keeps off all harm

we are gilding the age as we go