anarchy cigarettes & pacifist beer
it's been cloudy for years, that much is clear
but the ash clouds aren't distracting
they pull me backward headwise, back to days
I stood in parking lots, waiting on the oil to rain
- I wish I were flammable.
& if I were flammable, I'd offer my whole
to be trussed to a cannonball & sent to a soul
in need of a miracle falling waste star
they'd smile thru stormy veil, I'm sure,
glad it's not themselves, broken, ablaze
& poke me w/ wire, w/ curiousity captured in
sky flitting embers, driftwood crackle
mellow crater, shallow wisps of timber breath,
scraps like Pierrot in tatters, Plastiko burning,
a solution to a problem that never began, began too soon, solved in portions
to be unresolved, luminiscent like fireflies dissected, laid out for
observation, lacking prior beauty, in pieces
in pieces, in pieces still waiting on footsteps of
Harlequin nonspecific, still waiting on a distraction,
waiting in pieces smoldering, pondering...
Perhaps the Beginning is asking Why
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Comments
It seems like I write better when I black out.
--
B A B B L E = me antidrug.
The very last line says everything that needs to be said.
--
"Whats another day?
When silence is the next best thing to bliss"
--
B A B B L E = me antidrug.
--
"Whats another day?
When silence is the next best thing to bliss"
Inspire autonomous cerebration.
--
B A B B L E = me antidrug.
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