November 17, 2015

I'm always saying, what the fuck...





I'm always saying what the fuck 

circadian rationing, am I imprisoning 
the jammed forget what memory collects
am I just an electro-magnetic dust 
bunny valence shell empty...


this is a keyhole sermon 
through mounted speaker 
wireless staked starred 
former skin and bones 
talk soul 
in dead-light 
serenade(s)... 

the Moon 
is hiding 
something good
She pulls at you 
unseen sometimes 
where disregard 
is walls 
Jericho-ian 
and tidy...

at the beginning of things 
with happenstance 
and desire for faraways dancing 
with bullets, balast and need 
our joys tremble to spawn balancing 
tidal rain or not, we'll bleed 
also sorrows 
certainties, certainly 
serpentine-d serendipitous-ly
senile to an almost there...

I felt I knew everything 
boiled down to this...

thoughts were games 
actions were games 
and every game was 
a ritual of falling...

I have many scars to prove this 
but I wear clothes and masks 
so mostly I 
cannot see 
or smell this

so mostly I 
cannot become 
anything other
than a behavioral
repugnancy, an easy excuse 
providing your eyes 
and nose still worked...

I have covered myself 
in protective layers
of don't go there(s)
thorn and poison, an 
under-bark Spring tree vicious 
I did make wish lists once before
been laughing at myself ever since...

EJR ©

No comments:

Post a Comment