To be human in a world of madness To remember that we are of sameness Freedom of a road not taken Prods me along to show you to awaken Countless fields to sow and reap And yet all I see of them makes me weep To be an animal in a world of cruelty To remember that the universe lacks subtlety In chaos and hostilities portrayed In the end laying in front of a fire, flayed Forgotten pieces of consciousness, damning Likened to a dead man walking To be beyond the fleeting nature of life To remember that like a tree bereft of strife Calm and swaying in the wind, unperturbed Yet ever so often, hewn and disfigured Passing on the rings of your core to the living Not unlike a dead man walking Ever so often questioned on life Cyclical never ending The imaginary and the real The more things change The more they stay the same That in essence the very nature of life A principle of the flesh, sinews and atoms Of You, complete, once perceived
Month: June 2020
Fleeting & Ominous
In fleeting moments, it comes
Floating serenely
Drowning in chaos
Cyclical in nature
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A souls bereavement
Incomprehensible bewilderment
Benign and calm
Yet menacingly ominous
A procession of seconds
Uncounted
Serpent Tongue
An experiment in automatic writing.
Silhouette slacking, Lip smacking, Emptying the lake of virtues, Silver line across the sky, Humanoid beings and other worldly light, Wild headlights veer out of the way of a dawn, Yawning people walk streets of flesh, With no stars associated with no moon, Pretty boys over on the left, Over grown abnormalities taint existence, Universes fall through pocket holes, Glittering slime reflections, Of pretty bubbles surfacing, With talkative camels, raining, Starry bubbles staring on, At snakes dangling pots of holes, Leaking from two bottomless pits of, Uplifting shadows, unstable, unstoppable, Cling on with maniacal laughter, Gathering at throats end with the end of the world, Time spent facing two looking glasses, Cajoling heat throbs downed, With light erupting from the ends of men’s tools, Slick greasy hang on towels, Running across trees, Blue in color for seven days, With the seventh one of the seven, Prostrating for the glory of the serpent spent
Crumble
Years of building an unshakable facade
Came crumbling down in an instance
Of misjudgment and creeping anxiety
To return to what once was
Precarious resolves and shaken foundations
Will not define who I’ve been
This entity formless yet full of rage
But am I really in control or am I slave?
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Sunrise
Their eyes were empty
empty too I had become
Devoid of all passion and belief
In a future, resplendent and joyous
Swallowing suffering with a smile
You, with bright eyes alluring what could be
Instilling in me, hope and life
To give your world to me
Baring fangs once more, in time
Stepping forward to meet a new sunrise
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