Monday, March 7, 2011

But is this the end?

Been in the storm n'
rain n' crowns,
Jesters golden restin',
worn, down by,
pH levels spiked acid
faces barely recognizable
in soft featureless morbid
smooth eye socket wth/out
wrinkles and thought...

hock hock tock
the rambling incoherent clock-

I've got the time/place too
juicebox (hawaiian punch)
somewhere's toppled, crunched
or is it- Hi-C- yea
with slimer orange yellow box
flapless, why not green? eh,
it's anyone's guess on rocking boat
in formless ethereally eternal seas-

fear, I haven't written alot about fear
the sun coming down firey red and tired
flaming sparks on that long wrong road
between here and there, stretching off
into childish unclear horizon ancient painting
in ancient lands newly settled legend American coastline,
my coast line from Philly to DC,
where I've lived my life rolling,

But is this the end? huh? Seems like it's
some end, so like clear night sky
I close my eyes and dream-
of pasts and futures and where I'm dreaming
in the present, there it all merges under the ghastly
pleasant filiment streaked pink and blue
falling behind picket fences and cat cries.

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