Bizarre obstacle course
chadwick
Posts: 21,157
Bizarre obstacle course
Moving from here to there
down at this point
work is time
So small but scurrying along
no problem
just living little
Music towers
I just can’t believe your disorder and destruction
as you touch the windowsill of boulders and shells
This is where the yellow and red glass is warmest or crying cold
I just can’t understand this border
seeing through limitations pane
From here where it shines
just let me jump down onto this bench
running the length all day
admiring ashtrays along the way like charred safari
To me the giant spinning wind
smells like plastic
Moving to the floor
cigarette butts riddle the freeway of design
I do rest on them as I smoke my squares and fags
Why the nicotine fit of pollution?
As I cough forward and out of air
the landfill opens up before me
envelopes of careless mail everywhere
addressed and stamped for global earth sending and receiving
so many bury me alive
till choking
Some of this paperwork is largely written
like cave drawings that inspired the night
as savages raped the beasts
In the darkness
cloth hangs from what seems to be
upright cotton fields
kept behind doors and walls forever
Dust
I cannot believe the fallout and mites
running out of time with the captain
And with the captain
I sailed over entire continents of wet towels
and soiled garments
Dirty jeans and underwear mountain
are always the peeks where we would land
and you could smell her body quiver
like a dove on wind
We would claim this range before the cleansing
then in the instant passing of a few days time
it would all be taken away
slowly replaced by new structure
always moist and filthy
More blankets overhead gather around her
she must be dreaming while I am down here alive
because I continue to roam her slumbering body as I discover utopia
and yet she has nothing of expression to share
And now looking over
the ever changing green numbers change every minute
every hour
and I cannot think that way
I was not designed to yield to this guidance of buzzing
yet she sleeps inside the clocks of sky
But it isn’t through this roof
where paint has art
it is all around
and the paperclip holds his poetry like a brick
Moving from here to there
down at this point
work is time
So small but scurrying along
no problem
just living little
Music towers
I just can’t believe your disorder and destruction
as you touch the windowsill of boulders and shells
This is where the yellow and red glass is warmest or crying cold
I just can’t understand this border
seeing through limitations pane
From here where it shines
just let me jump down onto this bench
running the length all day
admiring ashtrays along the way like charred safari
To me the giant spinning wind
smells like plastic
Moving to the floor
cigarette butts riddle the freeway of design
I do rest on them as I smoke my squares and fags
Why the nicotine fit of pollution?
As I cough forward and out of air
the landfill opens up before me
envelopes of careless mail everywhere
addressed and stamped for global earth sending and receiving
so many bury me alive
till choking
Some of this paperwork is largely written
like cave drawings that inspired the night
as savages raped the beasts
In the darkness
cloth hangs from what seems to be
upright cotton fields
kept behind doors and walls forever
Dust
I cannot believe the fallout and mites
running out of time with the captain
And with the captain
I sailed over entire continents of wet towels
and soiled garments
Dirty jeans and underwear mountain
are always the peeks where we would land
and you could smell her body quiver
like a dove on wind
We would claim this range before the cleansing
then in the instant passing of a few days time
it would all be taken away
slowly replaced by new structure
always moist and filthy
More blankets overhead gather around her
she must be dreaming while I am down here alive
because I continue to roam her slumbering body as I discover utopia
and yet she has nothing of expression to share
And now looking over
the ever changing green numbers change every minute
every hour
and I cannot think that way
I was not designed to yield to this guidance of buzzing
yet she sleeps inside the clocks of sky
But it isn’t through this roof
where paint has art
it is all around
and the paperclip holds his poetry like a brick
for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
:thumbup:
I love them both, cw
"what a long, strange trip it's been"
i love how you end it also...
"But it isn’t through this roof
where paint has art
it is all around
and the paperclip holds his poetry like a brick"
awesome.
"To question your government is not unpatriotic --
to not question your government is unpatriotic."
-- Sen. Chuck Hagel
i don't even remember writing it.
thank you everyone for reading it and giving feedback.
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
sometimes cluster fucks can be good.
"To question your government is not unpatriotic --
to not question your government is unpatriotic."
-- Sen. Chuck Hagel
see my buddy here
he got some pretty decent hash
i then became the vice president of the dazed & fucked committee for about 5 days
staring at the floor was never so much fun
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
:crazy: :wtf:
"To question your government is not unpatriotic --
to not question your government is unpatriotic."
-- Sen. Chuck Hagel
been there . . .
"what a long, strange trip it's been"
oddly enough, i'm surprised i'm not a severe drug addict/alcoholic.
i enjoy writing when im high.
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
Godfather.
"what a long, strange trip it's been"
It is good to have friends in high places
"what a long, strange trip it's been"