I. TANGENCY
CON-descending
Lullabies
PRO-tracts unto the
counter measure of design
ANTI-trust collaborates
itself apart—in a metric reclusion
IN-vested by doppelgangers,
the ever hungry thirsts the truth
Where only OUT-bound
principles coagulate in exaggeration
Proving that greed and
supremacy are both equally capable to OVER-whelm, OVER-riding even the most
pure of minds.
TRY TO FIND A HOME!!!
Sycophantic and alone
Chrysanthemums atop
invisible bone
II. SMITTEN LIENS
She’s got me all tied
up
She’s got me whole
She’s got me to the
point
That no one else will
do…
To where no one else
could ever know
The consistency of
deviltry entangled deep inside
She’s got me tied up
in a mercury apron
Magnetically pronged
by unquenchable tines
There’s a weather
shift. It’s shaving back the sirens,
Casting disgrace upon
the prophets lost
In that (some) other
place, where (some) different crimes,
Caustically taint what
grows on sinewy vines…casually commingling beneath this vagrant moon
She’s drawn me in,
like a candle does the wind
She’s dragged me
through, both the mire and the blame
Whittling away the
hours and the cold of afternoon, crafting an otherworldly scene…where a sense
of withdrawn eyes remains—housed in sham—caressed by the lonely shroud that is
a mind detained
With intense feelings—harbored
thoughts grow uncovered—
Reflections unravel
into mindsets we oft deem forever lost—
Entrapped, encrusted,
upon a web of fluctuating light—transforming shadows into abandoned works of
art, ever dangling from gaudy structures that bleed divine—
Now knotted, twisting
awry, now dwindling…the snaps that turn askew—leaving me unknowing, what next
my heart should do—warping all the wisdom, engraving each a hue that’s yet
accrued…where each variance of color can only be found within her…in those
kaleidoscopic eyes of paintings unexplored.
III. FLOODED GATES OF CORAL
Nasty skein—wooden cage—comfort
blanket, doused in saline—and the board retracts, as the crowd looks on,
waiting for the final hook, (one) for the last breath to breathe upon
IV. FUTURE IN DECLINE
Amidst a future in
faltered frame
Amidst a frantic
amalgam of extraneous design—
Bearing fruits for the
witch and warlock—itching, pining, for more and more
Waving their wands,
sprouting smoke, contorting piranha
Whereas the amberjack
calmly swim beside the sharks
In synchronized waters—blue
yet black not quite red…as often the case can become—when observance becomes
analysis before the sinking mixture delves through pore
And what time may soon
one day become—the theories of the skeptics may also arise—giving back, only the
finality of applause
V. NOVELTY OF THE WHITEST FLAG
Disreputable, white
flag unclean—Dingy little mutt, sniffing out where the waves drew back from
Unwavering, courage
placates the deepest dream—A comatose refugee breathes new life—anaesthetizing
the air that dwells deep within
Worlds… adrift in slumber—are
fleeting now—away…departing from…unbecoming shades of green…residues that
shan’t move…while yet the consumption continues—as is true in most realms
dreamers often go— leaving only substandard effectiveness and varicosity of
growth
VI. BASTARDIZATION OF TASTE
Ignorance. It commands
the faith of soldiers—polarized by the egotist’s unconscious scream—the orders
engineer amnesty for the swollen templates fed to swine—this is the sketch that
is left outdoors at night. This is the
torn-out page, from those books our children color from.
It is much easier to
commandeer a jackal at dawn, when stardust has yet repealed the lid of eye. It
is much harder to stave off the apocalypse, if the flesh remains a proper
distance from well done. Soured certainly…yet
edible to none
VII. CONCLUSION (IF SO
TERMED)
Spearheading the
charge is the overarching romantic. Ignorant of the indemnity that tyranny
speaks and spreads about.
Equally blinded are
the swarms of anarchy that seem so fittingly applied to an individualistic
state where pegs appear disjointed and mangled alone—it is in these moments,
within such proclamations of spirit, that wholeness is bludgeoned by exhausting
treasons—fears cast about internally—so easily slung about in epochs such as
ours—
What a pity, truly…
To daydream of the
sky,
While holed up deep
inside
Remains entombed the
light…where to go, what to do…
…?
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