October 16, 2008

Buzzing bees of the downtown,
Not quite a district,
But distinct
In the way the flow of bodies
Matches the flow of the Fox,
Not so far away.
Life both falters and thrives,
Purely unique,
As the trash piles high
And the rest of the people trudge on through.

Victory can be reached on the road of defeat,
And this is the looming victory i currently seek!
Smile-wide pretty eyes,
And you may see what i really mean.

Smoke-flavoured french beans,
And the Norwegian shag are quite the stimulation
On days such as these.
I feel as if i am the jury of life;
I alone decide what is just and what is wrong.
These certain decisions are weighed with fantastic consideration,
Each subtle detail part of some grand equation.

Fragile body,
But an agile mind–
This torrent of scenes cut crisp throughout time.
Absorb all necessary details to move on,
Forth–
The time is no to rush hordes of folly words.

And the fines build up,
But overwhelming as they are,
It is common knowledge that they will pass.

Moonlight;
Take sight,
Target in the crosshairs,
And perhaps revival will set in!
The time of recovery has never been better,
But only time tells what Orion decides is the best course.
That is,
Until a mysterious cartographer walks in.
In whom do i trust with what life is left?

The feet are cold,
But the torso surges with excess energy–
A warmth left for dead months ago,
Nearly a dozen to date;
Precision has never been my forte,
Except in a bohemian’s writing.

Civilization makes many doubts clear,
The challenge is not then when,
But it is in the where.
As in,
Where does the individual begin?
Where do scudding knives dissect
Mere human life from the divine of mind?
Mayhaps, they are one…

Vines grow from the cliffside,
Various patterns emerge on the wall below.
Plants take the game of rhyme to a scene of perverse revelry.
This is what all great poets do for work;
They climb!
The answers are not found on the ground below,
But are scribed in the patterns
On the face of many strata revealed–
Their time-consuming emergence becomes euphoric
For those who can interpret the runes of old–
Those who can penetrate the rills.

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