Scratching the surface I open up
a big lift of green smoke a tug of blue
lay back and keep the textured ceiling company
as my mind drifts down this warm river
I can't help but touch on that warm gravy
abducting and deducing, reducing and deducting
reflecting but unable to see so clearly, you
deflecting any attempt to subdue
rationality that quivers my Bones, makes me ache
gives me a fucking headache
I'm falling-but not down-up
scaling the face, Rushmore sized at the base
remorse, regret, rebuttal and debates
then Sin, then, let it in
I've been born again
but not again and again and again
don't you see the dictation, or is it diction?
the lines are being fed in front of you
your ear just isn't keen enough to listen
despite all intuition, it's all in inflection
A flowing wave of black tides in with the pale yellow of my life, always teetering on the shallows and the depths of the plunge, the great sarcophagus called death, and the great cloud lived as life. What better than a cloud, maybe a sparrow, and it's song.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
homeword
I hit my home key in silence, trudging through
seas of septum sinking serenity
an eternity, benevolent race
and tiding binds in me, into you and out
i have no moon to afflict,
no spaces to grab without already made out self serving portions
the kind that serve the self
the self serving kind
seas of septum sinking serenity
an eternity, benevolent race
and tiding binds in me, into you and out
i have no moon to afflict,
no spaces to grab without already made out self serving portions
the kind that serve the self
the self serving kind
Friday, September 2, 2011
I lie and wonder
I lay in wonder, cardnals breaking the red out of the spectrum
Yellowed decayed foam, looking quite thirsty
a beating velvet heart pumps saphire red indirect
have you found me wanting,
i found nothing waiting
I Found Nothing,
not hopes nor dreams
casting gazes into
out of thin air
nothing, more than thin air
tangable in an intangible idea
seemingly paradoxical
Yellowed decayed foam, looking quite thirsty
a beating velvet heart pumps saphire red indirect
have you found me wanting,
i found nothing waiting
I Found Nothing,
not hopes nor dreams
casting gazes into
out of thin air
nothing, more than thin air
tangable in an intangible idea
seemingly paradoxical
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