Unluckinesses would have disappointed many.
Luck is a desirable characteristic, although undefinable.
Some morning some people get up and decide.
The subject of temperamental attitudes
May gather in unpredictable multitudes
And change history course as a curse
Upon those who simply love Kandinsky
Or adore Emily Bronte, Woody Allen´s movies,
But avoid to decide things in a rush of blood.
Some get up and write manuscripts
Admitting on the inside nothing predicts
The palpable reason why there are writing
And no simply hearing the Rachmaninoff’s third
As one is, dishonorable discharged, one abandon´s
Morning confusion as an illusion of possibility.
Theatricality changes perspective in ones best interests.
Proboscidean Lectures and gargantuan speeches
Never combined with a poem of Plath in the aftermath
Of a sunny day at the end of a scene of Brecht.
The inevitable beauty of Liszt
Has nothing to do to the fact
Of ones solitude as an act,
The Weltanschauung of an idealist.