i love to live as any good mannered living organism would say
i pride myself on the fact that I exist at all
i use to complain about my circumstance
but not I make my circumstance complain about me
that i don't give it enough attention
that i litter myself with distraction
that none of this will work out
but i brush it off and sweep it away
under the carpet of the day
under the facade of imprisonement
under the guise of a barrier
but its always there i know it i see it
however i choose not acknowledge it
however i choose to smile than despair
however i do my best to move on
but i can't always its true
i am going to think on it once in awhile
i am going to ponder what its influence is
but I will survive this
i will make it through to the end of the end
i will breathe easy and i will find love
i will find satisfaction in my circumstance
and this optimist will rub off on her
and she too will feel the joys i feel
wherever she is whoever she is we will be happy together
and i will continue to grow this happiness,
I will continue to shape it and smooth it out
and when she's here we can take on the world
take on this course that we both have taken
and strike down the pessimists
for i want feel joy
more joy than I can handle
i want to drown in it
breathe it in
and i will become like a bird on the wind soaring and gliding
with a perfect partner
who is less than perfect like me
Monday, November 7, 2011
Youth
Magic is a spectacle
Reminscent of a detestable,
Stench.
Cold and calcauated hope bring us closer to the light
But snuffs out the candle when we are close enough to,
See.
I don't remember you,
nor you me,
But we were meant to be in some time or
Space.
Cattle prodded the life force falters,
Shocked by pain and scattered about a field in ashes,
Sold.
Reminscent of a detestable,
Stench.
Cold and calcauated hope bring us closer to the light
But snuffs out the candle when we are close enough to,
See.
I don't remember you,
nor you me,
But we were meant to be in some time or
Space.
Cattle prodded the life force falters,
Shocked by pain and scattered about a field in ashes,
Sold.
the trouble with water
Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum
Couldn't put humpty dumpty together at last
And in their confusion severed the connection
the egg shell to the yolk
And Alice wandered aimlessly
When the cheshire cat was used to make a blanket
Grinning mischievously over a dead man's shoes,
In the middle of the Garden of Eden
the Mad Hatter wished a wishy washy lullaby,
On Cinderellas shoes,
As Adam and Eve made love,
And later bore Cain and Abel,
Who killed the one with a rock to the brain,
Bludgeoned as the Mad Hatter skipped to his lou
And the white rabbit rushed up on the face of big ben
Defying gravity as he sored with Peter Pan,
And entered neverland where time stood still
And he, the white rabbit, became certifiably insane,
On the skipping stone hearth,
Of an old sycamore house,
The Queen of Hearts cried into a saucer of milk,
Her roses were green,
And the seven dwarves had severed their stems
And made a bouquet for little red riding hood and poor little Goldilocks
Reminiscent of nothing the caterpillar puffed on his bong,
And got high off of nothing in particular
But his own personality,
And found it hilarious the absurdity he would have the reader believe,
As Ali baba spoke "open sesame" so was the caterpillar
Curshed up on the wall but the opening door
To the last remaining place that
Noah kept his ark.
Couldn't put humpty dumpty together at last
And in their confusion severed the connection
the egg shell to the yolk
And Alice wandered aimlessly
When the cheshire cat was used to make a blanket
Grinning mischievously over a dead man's shoes,
In the middle of the Garden of Eden
the Mad Hatter wished a wishy washy lullaby,
On Cinderellas shoes,
As Adam and Eve made love,
And later bore Cain and Abel,
Who killed the one with a rock to the brain,
Bludgeoned as the Mad Hatter skipped to his lou
And the white rabbit rushed up on the face of big ben
Defying gravity as he sored with Peter Pan,
And entered neverland where time stood still
And he, the white rabbit, became certifiably insane,
On the skipping stone hearth,
Of an old sycamore house,
The Queen of Hearts cried into a saucer of milk,
Her roses were green,
And the seven dwarves had severed their stems
And made a bouquet for little red riding hood and poor little Goldilocks
Reminiscent of nothing the caterpillar puffed on his bong,
And got high off of nothing in particular
But his own personality,
And found it hilarious the absurdity he would have the reader believe,
As Ali baba spoke "open sesame" so was the caterpillar
Curshed up on the wall but the opening door
To the last remaining place that
Noah kept his ark.
The Recession of Our Lord
In a fitless rage an ark angel throws another from its perch
Like a bird with a broken wing the unfortunate seraphim falls through into the limitless quandries of self conciousness
Where all he thought about is drowning him
Where he could swim had never only flown before
And his talons claw to grip onto space
But there is no space solid enough to hold
And he tumbles and fumbles his way through time
And that rage filled ark angel smiles alone to admire himself in a hall of mirrors
As his brethren falls evermore into everlasting nothingness
Plummeting not to its death but to its everything its not
A reminder at the forefront of its mind of that mindless self indulgent priming
The waxing of its most sensitive areas
The cleansing of its eye sockets and the numbing of its gluteous maximus
Fog passes through it,
Wind rushes passed it
And the oceans waves crash about it like a thin blanket of water vapor
And as mere mortals are caught in the under tow
This unfortunate ark angel will relive it all over and over again
It does not despise itself, but it does despair
Its eternal journey onwards and upwards backwards and downdwards,
Tasting nothing for it moves to fast for its taste buds to sense,
For its skin to reflect,
For its mask to contempt,
Life rushes by it, the souls of a million lives trapped in a hades before it passes by its perch again
To see its raged brother/sister standing tall upon its talons,
Upon its perch,
Upon its glorious perfection,
And look here back at the undertow.
Like a bird with a broken wing the unfortunate seraphim falls through into the limitless quandries of self conciousness
Where all he thought about is drowning him
Where he could swim had never only flown before
And his talons claw to grip onto space
But there is no space solid enough to hold
And he tumbles and fumbles his way through time
And that rage filled ark angel smiles alone to admire himself in a hall of mirrors
As his brethren falls evermore into everlasting nothingness
Plummeting not to its death but to its everything its not
A reminder at the forefront of its mind of that mindless self indulgent priming
The waxing of its most sensitive areas
The cleansing of its eye sockets and the numbing of its gluteous maximus
Fog passes through it,
Wind rushes passed it
And the oceans waves crash about it like a thin blanket of water vapor
And as mere mortals are caught in the under tow
This unfortunate ark angel will relive it all over and over again
It does not despise itself, but it does despair
Its eternal journey onwards and upwards backwards and downdwards,
Tasting nothing for it moves to fast for its taste buds to sense,
For its skin to reflect,
For its mask to contempt,
Life rushes by it, the souls of a million lives trapped in a hades before it passes by its perch again
To see its raged brother/sister standing tall upon its talons,
Upon its perch,
Upon its glorious perfection,
And look here back at the undertow.
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