Old Chicago

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  • Confusion

    Old Chicago

    Conversations pass over my head
    I watch the words fly by.
    We are isolated by our age
    But we find a niche of our own.
    Sitting between strangers
    But friends just the same,
    The confusing energies are pleasant
    And nothing is lame.

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    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    RxParanoia’s Poems (33)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Sin 0
    Glass House Boat 0
    Potato Salad 0
    Lost 0
    A poem from a letter 0
    3 Months, 8 Days 0
    Bride 1
    Treasure Jungle -10
    Toyland 0
    Old Chicago 0
    Ballet is Life 0
    Snow 0
    Sweet Decay 0
    Dancing Tree -1
    Long Distance 0
    Please 0
    Giving up 0
    Mirror 0
    Mi Amour 0
    Satire of Spring 0
    Questions 0
    I'm Sorry 0
    The Dark Knight 0
    Z-Day 0
    Betwixt 0
    Snowy Park 0
    Whiplash 0
    Strange 0
    Anger 0
    Twisted Wonderland 0
    Me 0
    False Hope 0
    Jealousy 0