As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
I was watching Life on Mars, and Cream was playing White Room, the last major creation of the band, and Eric Clapton's best instrumental. An actual poet wrote the lyrics to White Room after a rejection of Cinderella's Last Goodnight.
The Viking asked about my not writing poetry. I just do not feel it any more, the blood of the poem. It takes all my energy to beg for money.
Peter Brown wrote of tired starlings, and when you read my rendition of White Room, know as I am typing this, that each line begins Tired starlings, but something inside of me did not like the flow, so in thesaurus, I came across jaded.
Jaded is a misunderstood word in use, but it is exhausted, bored, tired. and in linguistical prose, jaded starlings hangs up on the tongue better in two syllables, than tired does, as jaded is an upbeat word, while tired is a downbeat which has not any flow to starlings, as ings travels on and why in English it is a suffix of present motion.
In the White Room
Jaded starlings, at my window, wipe the tears from your eyes
There is a white room, full of passions, wept from weeping, lows to highs
All in emotions, are those passions, in the prose of one poetry
All in emotions, feel those passions, of all she meant to me
Jaded starlings, through my window, shine a light in your eyes
There is a white room, in my garden, that has a moonlight from the skies
In the twilight, there is no starlight, just the promise of nights to come
In the twilight, comes the starlight, where the evening star has begun
Jaded starlings, whose wings curtain my window, flutter lashes over your eyes
There is a white room, draped within me, the velvet essence of no goodbyes
One time shrouded, always clouded, are the moonbeams of the night
One time shrouded, forever clouded, is the sunbeams of daylight
The jaded starlings, rest on my window, and lullaby sleep in your closed eyes
There is a white room, which is my heaven, holds the love which never dies
Born within me, held without me, in the milk of kindness there are no sorrows
Born within me, free without me, is the cream of all of our tomorrows
agtG
