I don't write, I paint myself blind with words...diogenes herded...ignorance...gilded cages...filling up on beauty unleashed...free will's maddening fractures...eyes that need to smell to see...
February 1, 2016
lens-ing through loquacious whisper
lens-ing through loquacious whisper
there were bikes chained together in the basement, blocking an industrially gray painted door to the outside...I just wanted to find them alive...I swore I had heard knocking when I was searching through the first floor...had the devil lived here before or was it more of modern humanity's need for a lord...either way, I did hear something alerting me to possibly a positive outcome in this search for the missing town's folk...
we knew dream outcome gambling halls were proliferate in these former manufacturing towns and being so, many sold their souls to paint their bodies a golden glitzy kitsch while they spent their last breaths on things they could ignore the rest of us with...perhaps they were just part of the wind now or peeling paint or even the rust shuttering close, the gates between the many chained link fences...strange to see the empty bones of what once was...all I needed now to complete this surrey with fringe at the top, was a bit of tumbleweed making the empty bleed into me...something that said move on from here, this place is not paced to be sanctuary...
but maybe their absence was just the other side of boredom,
seeking an alluring weigh station portal porter housed
what once was thought of as holy and tangibly divine...
knees, palms and forehead down, searching the lonesome(s)...
I mean, can you still detect faint traces
of individuation, when reading the words they left on paper,
are these words what their souls wanted to be...?
imprinted onto you or I, could they smell different too...?
here is where it all ends up being rhetorical
a story board with things still to do...
missing town folks ended up being
abducted by modernity and as such
were unable to be located
by way of poem, intoxication
or escapist training...
we said, they'd come back
when they were hungry
and headed home
for feast and fire...
EJR ©
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