Sunday, November 9, 2014

Lost Pen, Borrowed Mind

These things, they are getting easier to predict,
junk soaked hash browns in the eternal rotating mind,
a blank like white wallpaper stare might as well be
painted clones, all the same, one layer glued at a time,
I think, along with the crackle of fat & oil on griddle,
my brain eddies, flows, drops off the picture, past frame,

     I see a candle going out
a room dressed in black pearls
sickness on the pinwheel, ferris
wheel, on the burnt cross squinting
     I half understand, half forget

we write, in double speak, images, its own existence--
a cat, his rat. playing with infinite gladness of sun speckled dawn,
all stars are suns to dead planets in the solar array,
we just named ours first, classified to de-mystify,
to bottle it up--

     it's killing really,
building a fictional state,
a scientific existence reality,
call it a sacrifice to Lovecraftian
gods of memory, overshadowed
by numbers, remarks, discourse,
citations, speeches to legitimate,
in million dollar conference rooms,
concerned wholly with the "I"

I am not a forgotten boy
I chose utter foolishness anonymously 
I do not seem to fit
remember the am
remember the me

I play each part perfectly,
time is not counting up
it is counting down,

hit the cannon thrust
to evolutionary strain

TARGET: Entropy
                  NEXT STOP.

A bomb carried through time looking for an escape,
a pacifist era to claim, skeletons & rusted beams, sinking
ships killed the moon to bring on the floods,

I am no longer welcome,
too much was said,
promise me you'll watch from the windows,
scrape the mold,

I found the cellar door,
it was all down hill from there--

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