The Rhyming Thread
EvilToasterElf
Posts: 1,119
Alright, I'm just posting like a ghost all over this hizzy tonight. I'm going to throw all my old rhyming poetry on here, because I doesn't really fit in with my current stuff, feel free to contribute. Hell make an album out of it, whatever floats the proverbial boat.
Looking Back
If only in my dying breath
my feet could tread one distant world
and live the greatest dreams I’ve dreamt
infinity could be unfurled.
If only in my walking days
could I but have one single love
and dwarf the rolls of every stage
and revel in the skies above.
If only I could tempt the rest
to follow in a few footsteps
to drink the beauty with both eyes
and climb where the horizon dies
to whisper hopes to a gold sunrise.
We stumble into caves of truth
candy in this decaying tooth
the wind that brushes through our hair
spending all the years of youth
flirting with the perfumed air.
Tired hands wipe glowing scalps
while photo albums store the smiles
thoughts of trips into the alps
evaporate each step down the aisle.
The lonely miles melt in mirrors
driven through wrinkled highways
marks of age have become clearer
clouds now gather under your eyes
each year a spark amidst the blaze
but your inferno was consumed
by roots that gathered seeds of life
knowledge fell on rainy days
and whispers filled the empty rooms
Looking Back
If only in my dying breath
my feet could tread one distant world
and live the greatest dreams I’ve dreamt
infinity could be unfurled.
If only in my walking days
could I but have one single love
and dwarf the rolls of every stage
and revel in the skies above.
If only I could tempt the rest
to follow in a few footsteps
to drink the beauty with both eyes
and climb where the horizon dies
to whisper hopes to a gold sunrise.
We stumble into caves of truth
candy in this decaying tooth
the wind that brushes through our hair
spending all the years of youth
flirting with the perfumed air.
Tired hands wipe glowing scalps
while photo albums store the smiles
thoughts of trips into the alps
evaporate each step down the aisle.
The lonely miles melt in mirrors
driven through wrinkled highways
marks of age have become clearer
clouds now gather under your eyes
each year a spark amidst the blaze
but your inferno was consumed
by roots that gathered seeds of life
knowledge fell on rainy days
and whispers filled the empty rooms
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staring at the falling tides
While a Cyclops moon angrily glares
as hungry clouds consume the air
The silver night rains inspiration
To the poets who stay their course
Likewise the nocturnal artists
Howled every intrepid verse
The waiting universe uncharted
Beckons with its senseless silence
And only in dreams can we pilot
The realms unclaimed by lofty science
Wandering the nowheres below
rebuked by the burning sun
It’s gravity a stumbling blow
But with an inner eye the enlightened run
Across the histories of Gods
Medallions buried deep at sea
Destroyed by a father’s son’s despot
Despite the honest dreamers pleas
Diverted by the ancient faiths
Shackled men are bent like trees
Arching to the forgiving day
Forgetful of the waiting dark
Keeper of unwritten plays
The rustle of the formless winds
Clasping hands with idle leaves
Waiting for life to begin
From ideas sent by deities
Digging holes with skyward stares
Living as though unprepared
Settling sights on circles paved
By men who crossed all the same roads
The upturned grasses left to yearn
For shadows wandering unmade paths
Sinners seeking solitude
Across the mosses to walls of fern
Singing ballads to the many lives
The stars have hidden in their grasp
When all the world is filled with characters
Sunlight walkers bathed in habit
The midnight madness to which we stray
Caught John Doe a new white rabbit
Impaled by chance
I don’t fear death
Life is a glance
A passing breath
A toddler’s cry
The toothless sigh
The truth of beauty
Dead or alive
In the exuberance of
The tyrant’s stride
The wonder in
Our children’s eyes
At views of sunsets
Over rising tides
Or smoke that blankets
War’s backside
Reflected romance
The moans of night
Echoes through the
Sheets of life
Conceiving hopes
Of the wedding dance
The preacher’s zeal
The birth of stars
The senses feel this
Plight of ours
Chained to earth
Too proud to kneel
Wishes float on the
Acrid breeze
Wafting through
The techno-trees
Resigning to
Modernity
Hollow footsteps fill
Silent halls
In temples of learning
Empty afterall
New thoughts are tumbling
Like emerald ‘falls
scribbles on parchment
tutored the ages
until empires crumble
burning the pages
as memory fades
from lessons most humble
the wisdom of sages
sink into the starlight
and nothing can save us
To be normal on a world spinning
When normal is a formality
Entrenched within reality
The jungles of human emotion
Foliage for the days commotion
Being hacked and falling strewn
Across the wasteland of the moon
The god to which the beasts all howl
Kerohuac knew not to follow
As the dying mists dispersed
Leaving only lives less hallowed
Happiness sought in the wrong
The questions asked
are just the problem
The unasked answers left to rot
Like golems carved
In sinking swamps
* The chaos of a bed of flowers *
Writhing in the sun drenched hours
Leaning like unlearned child
Clutching at the lucid rays
Tender thoughts have left the wilds
While survival is the daily wage
With faces of dead presidents
Chiseled in green excrement
Waiting for the proper trade
For art or lust to masquerade
As meaning in a sensual form
To have and to hold but not to cower
Under the sheets with dire power
Erupting from the bottles corked
The dizzy laughter, dropping forks
From dinners under chandeliers
That shed no light, but foster tears
From idle brains corrupt with fancies
Tick or tape parades romancing
Softball heroes at weeks end
Glory needs no more than a smile
White or tan with hearty bellows
Reactions to some racist pun
Sifting through the local garbage
For aluminum wastes the
Beggars forage dashing off to the
Liquor store waiting for old Jack
To bring some more death to the
Tired days and endless nights
Some linger in the future,
Discarding thoughts of present tense
Left dwindling on lips of presidents
Pandering compromises to the seesaw
Politics
Ruminating on the truth the pleasure seekers
Sift through black books and photo albums
Streaked with hearts and “say cheese” moments
Lighting up another salvo, of herbs which
Boredom leaves to gallows ominously cheating
Rainy days of monopoly
Belated birthdays of hallmark cards
Restless children searching hard
For shiny toys and plastic guns
Like in the movies where fantasy runs
Gallivanting in the trenches or
Defeating crime lords with careless charm
Clichés reign for forty days and
Imagination dies for forty nights
Life is lost in movie scripts
Trapped in plot holes, discarded chips
Rending flesh from wearied limbs
Whose tax evasion welcomes hymns
To congregations waiting for new lives
Pyramids erected in glory account for
Nothing but untold stories of misguided
Ancestors forsaking the joy of life
Seven Seas to wash our sins
Nine planets tugged in endless spin
Around one sun that lets us live
One breeze from which we take our breath
One wind the hawk’s feathers caress
Praying to the chief’s headdress
While the clouds migrate but never nest
One plain of grasses the horses tread
One soil for the countless dead
Whose memories live inside our head
In dreams that drown the world in bed
Seven wonders of the world
Across the ages they were hurled
Bath’ed in sweat that drops like pearls
Around one history they’re curled
One moon to judge the lover’s night
As brilliant as the sheets are tight
While criminals abuse starlight
The silver coils ignite the ice
One revolution to count the day
Countries torn from chaos to praise
One river of royal blood displayed
Flows into the prose of tragic plays
Seven months in the critical wing
Technology or fate, the dice still spin
Without much laughter, no heart to sing
Without the lust of wonder, a hopeless thing
I am an army fixed on the line
Awaiting the call to charge
I am a runner on the third mile
With only twenty three to go
I am a tanker dead in the water
Awaiting the aid of a barge
I am the soul of a dying child
Awaiting the last breath to blow
I am the conscience of a drunken driver
Three down and still at large
I am the whispers of the storm
Treating discomfort with a rainbow
I am the shades of a hermit window
Covering pride from the angry stares
I am the glades growing in rows
Tickling the feet of running children
I am the church bell on funeral mornings
And the silence after nervous laughter
We are the dewy skin of the rising sun
And the smoky echoes of distant guns
In a field of gray
She wipes the sweat of her brow
Because she works life away
And there's a man who stands
on a pedestal of gold
counting his money
but what has he sold
There's a child who watches
Daddy get taken away
He had danced with the devil
now his son has to pay
There's a girl alone
with an unhappy mirror
Her body isn't home
She holds models dearer
And there's a brief altercation
between the wind and the clouds
and without hesitation
the rains were forced down
and the roof was awakened
to that sorrowful sound
There's a spirit on high
Who's hopes were denied
As it looks far below with tears in it's eye
As the purity is drowned in the tides
While another preaches with head in his hands
He cannot reach them hard as he tries
For he treads shifting sands
And his footsteps are lies
In waking dreams the swirls convene,
to discuss epic tales of wandering chipmunks.
Clouds roll by not asking why,
the tax cuts aren't helping to make a longer lasting gum.
From atop their perch the sparrows lurched,
in the way of a neon antelope.
God resolved to take time off,
as man prepared for Joe Millionaire.
The band played on,
to a cheering throng of drunken plastic cups.
And alarm clocks wailed from shadowed vales,
as waterfalls composed Homeric prose.
Around the bend a frog defends,
his ancestral home from legless giraffes.
Wasps descend from now and then,
but are beaten back by the wisdom of the lampshades.
Boiled lobsters fly helicopters,
over fields of growing taxis,
over a river of moles that’s bridged with holes,
the toasters glide playfully by.
Where they pass by a herd of one-eyed interns,
who see their reflections shooting bread and bagels.
Elected fools with stoic drool,
rain dollar clouds over nickel earth.
While laughter escapes from a pebble called fate,
and comets hurl toward another rebirth.
But on it’s way the road is paved,
with layer upon layer of socks unpaired.
And naked feet fall back and retreat,
from the storm of burping sweatshop urchins.
So the stars are sucked in
to the shape of a grin
And physics no longer applied
life shows us a smile every once and a while
If you’d all take a walk outside.
that everything won't be alright,
that if you’re strange the kids will stare,
but I will tuck you in tonight.
I called to tell you God doesn't care,
there will be bullies and losing fights,
and that the good luck is rare,
and most times you won't be right.
I called to tell you not to glare,
That anger isn’t bright,
Violence will not bring fanfare,
And each day is only slight.
I called to tell you Heaven’s bare,
So don’t turn out the lights,
While you are caught within this snare,
Enjoy both failure and delight.
I called to tell you to beware,
Of the helmet you squeeze on too tight,
Remember days of cartoon underwear,
When you filled your parents’ sight.
I called to tell you, take the dare,
Sometimes you won’t be polite,
Don’t be afraid of dazzle or of flare,
Because boldness never will grow trite.
I called to tell you don't be depressed,
because you're still here breathing air,
there are many measures of success,
so get out of bed and go get dressed.
Before the spirit of rebellion, was buried in the ground,
coffin lids slammed, lips frozen in fear,
never again to make another sound.
We scurry on, indulging in the various knick-knacks,
but if we fill our tombs with dvd’s we still can’t bring them back.
Today we walk the labyrinth devoid of victory cheese,
a Minotaur is our last star, clutching freedom, the paycheck.
Waving flags of mediocrity, the banner of generation X.
To navigate the cubicle maze and rise above the pallid skies,
we have nothing more to do than walk away.
Ignore the towers of reflective glass distorting sweatshop cries.
The dawn recites the headlines, with arcing libel beams.
Because it’s thoughts that build the cities of soul,
where we can only walk in dreams.
We trundle through on borrowed time,
Herded through profits on the open range.
As they have died still we will die,
death we cannot change.
We bury tragedy in the past and tear it at the seams,
And where have we come from primates climbing trees,
if opposable thumbs now grasp only the remote control?
But we carry on,
we carry on,
like eddies in a stream
of commercial advertisements.
Bands of tanks still roam the land, with angelic air support.
Where have we to turn to for the healing hands?
There is no rest for the righteous in these,
days of endless vice.
The planet’s revolutions shiver now and then,
wrapped around the cradle’s womb is corporate appetite.
The Social Darwinists cry havoc and let slip the software of war.
Pro athletes’ protein nightmares take Odyssean tours,
and the single mom buys misery in jars at the local Wal-Mart.
The spiral straightens noiselessly as we avert instinct,
but every generation’s woes pull us back into decadence.
Rising past the collapse of Rome, the loss of ancient Greece,
Dying through bubonic waves, crashing on serfdom’s shores,
we carry on.
Like those who we have deemed,
eternal harbingers of misery.
Discovering fresh weakness on every infants face,
before tossing them to furnaces, the crucibles of faith.
The flaws all flow into a path,
that narrow minds retrace.
Will we continue on our autopilot set in the ice ages?
Or can we step back look at the past and do something courageous?
And the dilettante of hate
To ministers of isolation
From a victim of his fate
To the leader of the loveless
Who tried to change too late
In a vault of empty passions
Throne-room of the poorest state
To the God of never happened
Of what should have came to be
Glaring from the pedestal
Through tears it never weeps
From armies of the apathetic
And mobs of second-rate
The masses of reaction
Content to sit and wait
From the throngs of the lackluster
The ones who view the greats
Waiting for their inspiration
While leaving empty plates
From the Lord of maybe next time
To Citizens of the sedate
Enjoy fairy tales and history
Because you were born too late
As a member of the present
Living to this very date
Echoes of the ages
Serve only as bait
Dangling hooks of opulence
Refusing to donate
For some there is no second chance
Leaving hollow thoughts of hate
And so our palaces will crumble
Under their own weight
While the gangs put down their fables
To charge unguarded gates
And the wielders of authority
Won’t see fit to abdicate
The failures clutching fantasy
Resigned to procreate
Always rebuild the future
And relapse into checkmate
A host of angels shouted prayers, to the unforgiving masses
who reared their heads to face the glare, from the setting sun that passes.
All through the world a hush was heard, as the plague-winds shivered,
but into their lair with a vacant stare, cupid dragged his quiver.
Without warning a flock of doves ascended from a snowy field.
A hunter lay there in the brush, unloading waves upon waves of steel.
But what he craved that day was saved, and a great white arrow flew,
fluttering in the winter breeze, yet faster than any wind that blew.
As darkness enfolds the world of man, the dawn awaits the fall of night,
while in their beds the souls do rest, arming for glorious battle.
The seraphim lay hands on them, whose dreams soothe and delight.
As the day transcends gray skies, waters of life swim smoothly by,
but despair at last should not relapse, for victory comes with the light.
Thousands times thousands of evil thoughts loom, visions wandering in the gloom
while sitting on a blackened perch, whispering softly some vile curse.
Despite the deeds of unbelievers, they cannot assuage their mortal doom,
blanketed by thoughtless sleep, only legacy defends the home.
But though for our errors we most atone, we surely will not die alone.
Man is but child of the sun, of supernovas and galactic organs
donated until our time is done, when they too will pass to cosmic orphans.
Though we diminish from a creature of substance, there still yet is hope,
The essence that we radiate, the warmth that we emote
rides solar winds on photon waves, to rise another Morning.
Whom many called a quack
Sitting in a room alone
Taking knowledge back
Hume believed in reason
There are no instincts
Season follows season
I know because I think
Leibniz is a monad
A pebble in a stream
Each new one a new man
Our bodies are a dream
Kant had to retry things
Editions A to G
Because a cagey Prussian
Rewrites philosophy
Descartes was really senseless
When viewing melted wax
And though it was a candle
No light shines on the facts
Hume has no beliefs
In rationality
He justifies a sunrise
As borderline insanity
Leibniz is a link
In the chain of a world soul
Where God and toe-nail clippings
Play an equal role
Kant once told a story
But no one came to hear
That science is a priori
But he couldn’t make it clear
Descartes was always thinking
In well heated rooms
But nothing was worth keeping
So his books should be entombed
Hume is lacking freedom
Stuck in human orbit
History was gruesome
So he says we should ignore it
Leibniz was determined
By powers on high
He learned it in a sermon
So don’t ask him why
Kant was transcendental
Of nature’s intuition
Proving Hume was mental
Was his holy mission
Descartes had his morals
He likes to hedge his bets
And so sat on his laurels
So he didn’t lose his head
Hume likes to think people
Repeat past mistakes
But to those beneath the steeple
God will cut a break
Leibniz was idealist
All things have inner purpose
Spontaneous combustion
Fights the human surplus
Kant enjoyed his tables
Compartments of the mind
Reality’s been labeled
So leave the world behind
Descartes was a doubter
His senses can play tricks
And a dream confused him
So Earth doesn’t exist
Leibniz said that God
Established harmony
And that could be valid
For men born into money
Hume argued with Descartes
Tearing France in half
It was a skeptic catfight
Which made most people laugh
Kant belittled everyone
From Hume to Aristotle
And the Prolegomena
Made me hit the bottle
Leibniz put down Descartes
Although they both were crazy
Explaining everything with God
Also made them lazy
Kant had the biggest head
And thought he’d never fade
But if we could inflate his ego
He’d float in the Macy’s Day Parade
I always thought philosophy
Was made to set us free
But now I have discovered
It’s simply a degree
Descartes, Hume, and Kant
Prepare to endure it
An academic pissing contest
And I feel like the toilet
unlike many others
should we take the simple son
of a simple father
Should the voters read the papers
and vent frustrations they had
that some retired old couples
popped out pregnant chads
So the world let out a yee-haw
when the Texan came to town
tree huggers all blamed down syndrome
and hoped Cheney would thaw
Some scientists were thinking
That Global warming’s back
But W. assured them
Sunoco was working on that
One day there was a tragedy
The White House was in a fix
An assassination foiled
for Bachman’s pretzel stix
To combat this wave of salted terror
“We’ll use strategery”
The plan to was mighty clever
Blame everyone across the sea
Chester Cheetah, a Wise owl, and Pringled veteran
the evilest triad ever seen
We tracked them to a lawless land
of hemp smoking munchies
Where the banner of Uncle Sam
Would smite the smiling Bhudda
And soon the Taliban
Would pay for salted crunchies
After the war had started
Snack prices rose without bound
And Pringle guzzler’s made a fuss
The market hit the ground
But how to fix the problem
Find the leader of the bunch
We would have to bargain
To capture Captain Crunch
So we asked the Pakistani’s
And they would help us out
But the land was sandy
And Dubya began to pout
We couldn’t find the Captain
We needed someone else
Is there any other evil
Who was still down and out
So when in doubt ask daddy
He knew what to do
And he was really popular
When attacking Iraq too
Can I just go invade him
“No”, the senior said
Just say he’s got the bomb now
And put this guy to bed
So the evil menace
Is now Saddam Hussein
The search for what’s his name
Had clearly been in vain
It would not be easy
Because France had seen no crime
But with the French as allies
It’s just a matter of time
as a bicycle teased the lumbering tram
Dance music muffled by the sounds of laughter
A sea of masterpiece, in Van Gogh we swam
Watched the orange hues of a rising sun
reflect through great stone arches
A ring of rocks atop a solitary hill
eroded to the nubs by windy marches
a millennial explosion into lush grasses
like a fog rolling over the London Bridge
The hour chimes from a gothic clock,
and a deadened echo fades from granite statues
Ancient heroes scattered laboriously
around prominent London landmarks
Further down in Camdentown
canal boats sprung a moral leak
Fueled by dreams of Amsterdam
the British Rasta roam the streets
As spears erupt from a setting sun
the electric ballroom fails to hum
There are no sex pistols playing today
No more anarchy in the UK
wandered over winding hills
crushed the sand of aged footpaths
swimming through an emerald sea
atop the steep promontory
while floating through the salty air
whose siren scent had called sailors
to any land claiming treasures rare
departing through a entrance cut into the wrinkled rock
The Durdle Door has seen the fleets of many monarchs
And the bubbling waters gorge
on the husks of broken battleships
Fighting for King George
The sun draws out of the bed a series of habits
I rarely have moments to sit and look
Decipher all the things that are my world
To question what it is that I believe
Or bathe in the endless mysteries
The clothes I wear all seem to be smaller
Thoughts are boiling like a covered pot of water
And although my legs haven’t grown taller
Everything inside me seems to spill over
Are my dreams the dreams of my father?
Should I be life’s character or life’s author?
The cities are coated with a layer of disaster
As gardens covered with a blanket of snow
Will the things we build survive the hereafter?
The seeds of steel and glass may never be planted
Is it that knowledge makes youth travel faster?
Or that memory is our slave and our master?
The path to understanding may be a shortcut
The path of creation plodding and narrow
The forces of change, from quasar to chestnut
Are without magnitude, or fixed importance
To entreat insignificance, will only bring sorrow
For good or ill, existence feels only tomorrow
Is there some plan to all human interaction?
Are casual glances atoms careening along?
An explosion of energy, and our world’s a reaction
To an unanswerable question, that exists only in rhyme
In sleep will we find where we truly belong?
Will our exploits be captured in some immortal song?
And stop posting like a maniac, I can't keep up.
In Binghamton did Steven Wheat
A swingin’ Bach’lor pad decree
Where Alf the 80’s hero, ran
Through channels measureless to man
On a zenith TV
So twice five feet of messy ground
With beer and raman were laying round:
And there were fridges bright with expired dills
Where blossomed many a nasty smelling leak
And here was laundry ancient as the hills
Covering old mags of pornography
But oh! That deep pedantic closet which slanted
Down the white wall athwart a plastic cover!
A ravaged place! As holy and demented
As e’er within a simpson’s toon was flaunted
By co-eds flailing for their pork-chop-lover!
And from the classroom, with painful boredom leaving
As if this university were teething
A mighty kegger momentarily was forced
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Ping-pong balls vaulted like holy grails
Or sinking ships beneath alcoholic gails
And ‘mid these dancing cups at once and ever
It flung up momentarily the sacred river
Five men meandering with a hazy motion
Through couch and chair the yellow river ran
Then reached the bathroom odorless to man
And sank in one flush to a lifeless ocean
And ‘mid this tumult Steve heard from the bar
Fraternity voices coming with more coors
The aroma of the drunken pleasure
Floated midway through the rave
Where was heard a techno treasure
With him spinning the party’s saved
It was a turntable of rare device
A sorority came with bags of ice!
A brunette with a tank top shirt
In the kitchen I once saw
It was a Staten Island maid
And on a tabletop she played
Dancing with other girls
Could I revive my kidney
From being drunk so long
That such a hangover ‘twould win me’
That my head felt like a gong
I would build my pad in air,
That smelly home! Those raves of vice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, What should I wear!
His bloodshot eyes, his matted hair!
And close your eyes while in his bed,
For he to many girls hath said,
That college is a Paradise.
Where have you gone, you baby-boomers
with your swollen memories, and
locket shaped tumors
with your pensions dropping like
barrels from Niagara falls when
stock market bubbles burst
Hearing rumors of this greatest generation,
who fought in the trenches, and bled on the
shores, saving democracy for all time
from a man with one testicle
The measure of man, is battlefield courage,
left without struggle, you turned to the mind, but
Where have you gone, you LSD priests
you tripped in the gutter, and
stayed for a week
watching your brothers fly into Cambodian jungles,
while you read current events from
college podiums, jumpstarting
SUV apathy with Woodstock smiles
marching rifleless to the capital, to bring the
boys home, heaving your slogans like pebbles,
against tanks, not realizing that
destitution doesn’t shape politics
Where have you gone, you yuppie suits
swept into traffic, with
your stock market truths
Watching your CEO’s 401k gambles
come crashing with those towers that
woke you from your leather couch dreams
in your 40 inch plasma eyes
Surrounding yourself with pursuits electronic
sending your angry teens off to universities
to major in business and law
Where have you gone, generation X
walking through townhouse
neighborhood feeling blessed
the weight of a nine to five no fit for
your shoulders,
but the internet pirates were
not the best of share holders
and when we were immune to the millennium
bug,
When the fruited flies sing vegetabled lies
and the crooked hacks walk with straightened backs
and the oldest young still had chores to be done
and the weirdest freaks lost the war to the meek
When the humans are gone the world will go on
When the cross-eyed bear stops breathing the air
and the hummingbirds’ curse abandons their verse
and the clean give homage to rotting garbage
and the richest poor lose hope in the stores
When the humans are gone the world will go on
When the masses yearn for rivers to burn
and the flightless things leap off cliffs in the spring
and the coldest hobo rolls around in the snow
and the greatest books lay unread and untook
When the humans are gone the world will go on
When the wheels are squared and knuckles are bared
and famished beached whales concoct eerie tales
and the nuclear bombs weren’t launched with aplomb
and the rust corrodes all the things we have known
When the humans are gone the world will go on
When the greatest lies connect truthful ties
and the deepest oceans lay dry without motion
and the desert wastes begin soaking in haste
and the dying jungles force the cities to crumble
When the humans are gone the world will go on
Images cling
To the back of the mind
While the red sun is setting
With the illusion of time
Thoughts are just whispers
Speech is a crime
Painted flowers hang on a wall
Dancing in the breeze
Created by the oscillating of the floors
To a rhythm the architect
Could only hope to imagine
Footsteps ripple
In carpeted waves
While the whole house is spinning
To cleave the moon’s rays
Lifetimes have passed
But clockwork betrays
Light bends perfectly around a corner
Swallowed by a moving corpse of laundry
Into a bed of liquid
Whose murkiness is surpassed
Only by its impossible solidity
The night stars beckon
And they mesmerically dance
In untrackable patterns
While Copernicus rants
Under snaking lanterns
A doorway runs from the hall to the stairs
And sucks in its handle
Understanding horrors of his brother the wall
A resentful birth
The bronze knob grows back into place
The gateway is whole
Appreciative of its purpose
The floodgates have opened
But my feet aren’t wet
Fierce tides of emotion
Force the shadows to sweat
And are stirred into motion
Shadows walk
Followed by the things
They were meant to mimick
A gloomy procession
Emboldened shades stretch reality
Suicidally consuming themselves
Before the divine illumination
Of an exit sign
A brief altercation
Between the wind and the clouds
And without hesitation
The rains were forced down
And the roof is awakened
The windows cry softly
The whimper of a lost child
But the powerlines twist awkwardly
And the sparrows jump rope
To sooth this translucent melancholy
Moments or hours
The storm rages on
Our thoughts take a shower
And are cleansed with the dawn
An exodus flees into the seas.
The holes of souls cling to the breeze.
Caught in the swing of living tides.
A breath of life, an audible sigh.
A shimmering hoax on broken decrees.
The sanguine riddle hides the key,
Of an attempted new reality.
But what if consent has roused each side?
An exodus flees into the seas.
It peers and seas from bended knees.
Flickers and pleads, but can’t conceive.
The barren cry when hope has died,
From a waistline distorted by lies.
By scattered psyche’s last entry,
An exodus flees into the seas.
Despite the horrific things we witness,
Apathy engulfs the activist’s flame.
Relearning society’s ignorance
Because indecision is its name.
Evil green armies inherit the battle
Remembering the likeness of long dead men.
War of possession fought without blood,
Lore of recession, tells historical prattle.
Modern society’s ceaseless obsession,
Techno-embrace of the human condition.
Blackened materialistic depression,
Limitless freedom to silence sedition.
A shamelessly sponsored corporate duress,
American avarice assuming blame.
Passed down the wealth they once possessed,
A cyclic reality, this consumer game.
Through alleys, chains of poverty rattle,
Sightlessly searching, roaming like cattle.
Tales of welfare amplify destitution,
Minority struggles defy our constitution.
Where once the scenery inspired awe
Nature is battered as humanity grows.
Consumed by the inferno’s maw,
Industrial hearts pump acidic woes.
Refuse to question a free existence,
The youth fades to slack without resistance.
Until the depth of the cosmos shatters
Leaving human arrogance in tatters.
Need...more...coffee.....ah!!
My favorite is "Long Summer Days".
Thanks for posting them. It was entertaining reading.
۞Liefde is niet dat waarop het uitloopt, maar dat waarmee het begint,
۞Er is liefde en je begint een relatie om te zien of zij daartegen bestand is.
Long Summer Days has one crucial connection to Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
Where have you gone, you baby-boomers
with your swollen memories, and
locket shaped tumors
with your pensions dropping like
barrels from Niagara falls when
stock market bubbles burst
Hearing rumors of this greatest generation,
who fought in the trenches, and bled on the
shores, saving democracy for all time
from a man with one testicle
The measure of man, is battlefield courage,
left without struggle, you turned to the mind, but
Where have you gone, you LSD priests
you tripped in the gutter, and
stayed for a week
watching your brothers fly into Cambodian jungles,
while you read current events from
college podiums, jumpstarting
SUV apathy with Woodstock smiles
marching rifleless to the capital, to bring the
boys home, heaving your slogans like pebbles,
against tanks, not realizing that
destitution doesn’t shape politics
Where have you gone, you yuppie suits
swept into traffic, with
your stock market truths
Watching your CEO’s 401k gambles
come crashing with those towers that
woke you from your leather couch dreams
in your 40 inch plasma eyes
Surrounding yourself with pursuits electronic
sending your angry teens off to universities
to major in business and law
Where have you gone, generation X
walking through townhouse
neighborhood feeling blessed
the weight of a nine to five no fit for
your shoulders,
but the internet pirates were
not the best of share holders
and when we were immune to the millennium
bug, when our cold war bunkers perished
inside the tin cans of non-perishable apathy.
So where have you strayed you enlightenment
seekers, you kicked off your sandals, and ran
back to God in your sneakers. Your midwest
spider holes were cleared to make room for your ballots,
when you'd heard the country was marrying faggots.
But parables never could be subdued,
as morality stopped the flow of a feeding tube.
And now that I'm here, where could I go,
the planet's still spinning, but it's spinning too slow.
The axis of the pendulum of public policy,
has left no doubt in my mind, that we're a fool's democracy,
my life's sand sifts through this hour glass,
but what can turn it over, if so much of my time has passed,
why can't I still look forward? I stare beneath me to the sea
from the window of this plane, the destination of this life,
has become nothing but a mindless game.