December 26, 2008

Vestiges of a certain filth
Fill the coffers with certain wealth–
Obstruction of warm and cool,
Differenciating fire and ice;
Elements of this life and time.
The vacant street corner
To bitter fucking content.

It is truly outstanding,
The plights of souls lacking
Their dignity and warmth.
The demeaning vengeance.
The unseen compassion.
The vacancy in bed. In sleep.
In dreams.

But dreaming brings the unexpected,
This sleep,
Once again the world
Is re-fabricated through intense woes.
And grief.
Refracted life–

A small child, chubby and sweet.
A brown Icarus of the modern light
With a helmet for flight.

Time warped,
And wrapped around insane pretenses
Of the pretentious curiosities.
The wonders seen,
And what the noon sun melts.

It beckons from distant stars
And galaxies alike–
From the figurines to membranes aught,
A bashed in skull from
Flaky defense.
It all forces cowering woes
From the adult’s abode.

And Orion,
Sword in sheath and
Overbearing club in hand–
One blow,
And i am leering around memory.
Second strike,
And memorized vision incites
The imagined flights of childhood.

And alone,
The child reaps a small space
And transforms into
Hero and heroine alike–
An addictive circumference of space–
The eternal reaches of a child’s grasp–
Limitless,
The needed tasks are accomplished
However he desires.

The elements of trust,
Placating a life through mere imagination.
Imagine:

A futuristic Trojan
With uncanny foresight.
Trowa, you lived and loved and lost.
You vanquished foes,
And replenished the will of friends.
Even in sleep,
You ventured the seas of space and time.

There are lessons thought out in practice–
But these are as real as memory can contest.

***

Blemished memory–
The unforgotten deeds
Seek forgiveness or flight.
As the wily bird escapes a predator,
Or the hunter catches the prey
Unsuspecting. Unknowing.
But life will cycle onward,
Never the less.

Mathematics can explain schematics,
And predict the future’s circumstance–
But those who are limitless are
Never taught to read or write.
As a wise man once said,
Or surmised when he reached the
End:

Writing will never be liberation,
As libation offers no real condolence;
The drink of genius to generously slur the words
Taught throughout this Earth.

Arithmetic only calms and narrows
The gap of most sincere understanding.
But breaking formalities brings the shores
One step closer.

The eternal sea,
It never sleeps and cannot rest!
The unallocatable sum,
To here for a time
We all must plunge.
There rests true understanding–
The difference between fact,
And truth,
And knowledge.

These things i have seen,
The dreams i have lived
And the nightmares forgave!
Forgive,
But never forget:
The feathers we as birds
Exhaust.

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