Poetry, my brother?

Oh poetry, oh poetry;
what shall I speak?

Spontainious gazes,
an undiscovered country?

Or rather real poetry?


Is poetry made; to be understood?
What shall I speak, my brother?

Should I testemony for reason,
or the abstract?
Or both?


For now, and for me,
dancing with the gazes, the you, in the library.

I shall be off duty,
for the sake of poetry.

Thats the art,
to let you be, to be myself,
to be concrete, to be abstract,
to be on, and off duty.

For now I shall be off duty,
dedicated to you,
for the sake of myself!

Poetry?

Marry X-Mas, my friend!
(added 30.11.2009: Poetry, spoken FAITH!)