maybe something will come of this

waltzing down a dissident street
banana peels under flat feet
sacred movements set to a
distant heartbeat
settled in the mercy seat
country boys dance and rhyme
with reason
but no sense of time
spitting verses
to supplement curses
of dissociative universes

so now, this perception
i think, is the new reality
and black is the omnipotent spectrum
of all colors combined
with secrets and symbols revised
under constant struggle
from hearts and minds devised

love, worn like new skin
is at first
accessorized, and customized,
then eventually compromised
desensitized, dehumanized,
despised, and finally excised

servants and saviors remain hidden
under a touch once thought forbidden
backyard trigger
mental wall overridden
i remember how she fed the crows
how she talked to them
befriended them
they rarely visit
now that’s she’s gone

somehow
she still maps the corners of my mind
and it seems this play is serious
but most days i’m just delirious
waiting for simple truths
thought mysterious

too many false loves to recount
too many people too many places
faces, traces of the old life
it was a lie destined to die
high above playgrounds of distaste

the clouds form mandalas
i can’t interpret
serpents tossed
with circuits crossed
in an information holocaust

looking up and feeling down
there are
chem trails and fox tails
details of foreign sales
chasing dragon scales
while listening to
the hammering of nine inch nails

structure is irrelevant
to me everything is a song
chipmunks, birds, traffic
children laughing in the distance
clocks ticking against a harsh eternity
transform me into a reluctant monk
deputized, a prophet of simpler times
eyes closed with purple tones
exclaiming and defaming
decadent rhymes

noon day, red wine and bug spray
thought to form
and set to pray
we watch
handcuffed whores
on deadlocked tours
of catholic guilt
for half a day

familiar clutter
circulating a chaotic semblance
of rustic routines
erratically revised
lives like bent and rusty knives
locked in overdrive, as they
deprive, archive and survive
self imposed villainy

i want to cultivate
the personality of an artist
inspiration, with a daemonic declaration
transformation
internal liberation
held in a habitual hades
with hearts deep like a quarry
and minds shallow
like a mud puddle

art is creation
in any form
radicalized, sacralized and unborn
thrown to the world
to subjugate serenity
and surrender
to this savage garden

254-maybe-something-will-come-of-this

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