I
I find I can't communicate
with normal men of normal flesh
somehow our souls just do not mesh.
I hope its not too late.
I find I can't illuminate
why normal men just do not please
as if their souls are filled with fleas.
I fear it is my fate.
I find I can't evaluate
why normal men displease me so
maybe our souls just do not flow.
I know they don't gyrate.
II
I find I can't begin to rate
the actions of the normal men,
as if they read words from a slate
that disappeared again.
I find I can't even create
a bridge towards the normal men,
as if they entered by a gate
that disappeared again.
I find we don't reverberate
the normal men and I;
and herewith I commmorate
the hope of days gone by.