Wednesday, February 8, 2012

A Radically Obstructed Existence

We watch the cockerel’s dance,
And dream to learn its dusted step

Through Sloth-screening,
Triamines exude noxious
Freedoms stirring

The vitreous resolve
Of canopies high,
Air Fiery floods
Upon flashbulb

Crooked arrow scars engrain
Burnt sienna brilliance
To the pigmentation of
The washroom serf

The silver contrasts the skin
Always following the tinny sounds—
The only music ever sung to him

The cigar still hangs its shadow-veins,
Finger and thumbnails strain the check-boxed page,
Calmly noting the indices newest casualty

How’s and why’s are questions never asked,
Yet, should the capon crown be out of place,
An inquisition will surely find the reason why

In halation’s after-lens,
The breathing understand there & then
There’s no escaping these rutted rails
For us, even in mort, liberation ever fails

1 comment:

  1. Like the mood you set, the cigar was a grand touch. Sometimes we are stuck to take what comes around and there is no other way out of it too be found. Just have to ride the rails so to speak and hope we one day find what we seek. Oh and I did make a whole post out of those two words I liked