Lady Of The Western Lake (Poem)

A smart man keeps his imaginary friends close and his enemies far away



Were I a smart man, I would know the difference



For I was Anti-Arthur for a day

Taking the sword to the Lady Of The Western Lake

On the eve of new beginnings



Prepackaged wine waterfalls, and I waded purple fields in confusion, maintaining a pleasant “catch-up” phase at a high-end home's back

The Queen was North, and the Lady's loves did play



Dispelling rumors in stone, our mutual hater was muted, and we wrote like Lennon/McCartney early on

Eyeball to eyeball



There I was, answering a subliminal, an ad out in a space collectively “mine”, a flight of fancy for ebony

The stopwatch was zero, and we were well acquainted

The stopwatch was one, and two, and I loved the Western Lake

And I swam by routine, and I took two cupfuls, to carry home in a fishbowl



And my imaginary friend was close, and my enemies, far away

Were I a smart man, chapter 2 would be fiction



For the enemy grew close

A jealous and begrudging thing

Claiming love made in China, bought from pride, mailed with dissent

An “If I can't have you, no one can” mantra

And I, a fool

Aspirations of poetry and ignorance of the Shakespeare on my arm



Prying with masterstrokes and shooing the Lady away

Me, removing my armor, and taking East, re/morse each mile



Karma incarnate

A season away from the sun was stupidity's just reward



Karma incarnate

Rowing cross oceans, hiking morning mountains of untrained hounds



Karma incarnate

Squirming at the long and lifeless rats as they squirm back, wishing for the thumbs to write “Food.”



Karma incarnate

Hiding my treasures from a mad young prince



Karma incarnate

Adulterous late nights, anorexic walls and gossip, a fort where knights keep their own while they wage wayward war



Karma incarnate

Where they took my music away, and my soul followed



Karma incarnate

Reminding myself of my days as Anti-Arthur, and the Western Lake by moonlight, where my sword had a good cause, one worth fencing for



Passage West

The lake was there, but my imaginary friend was gone

My enemy mocked,

My armor rusts without nightswimming



So I sit in discomforting regret

And someday hope to be Anti-Arthur again

And take my eager sword to the Lady Of The Western Lake

On an eve of new beginnings