My friend of final fantasies
We’ve been swept up in illusion
Must upkept or turn to be dissolute
And frayed
A tightrope thin wire
And that we walk comrade
The star of David ’neath an Islamic sun
Has marched a Rusnak to the factory
Život, robota
Culture sings its revolution
No more than circles ’round the skies
The weight of dredging memories
Is a crushing blaze computerized
Emancipated dreams
Wherein we can speak ourselves
A collective reference
As if we were no more than a caricature
A veneer of matriculated belief
The color of skin a chill white
Rubbing blackened circles of consistency
Beneath sulking eyes
Dank lairs of Spanish red and French brandy
We’ve chosen to copulate our senses to our sensitivities
Breed a lighter touch
As after the august storm
There was the most beautiful orange
September light
Pending a bloody October
The leaves on endless winds
To show their truest colors
Ripe in their precipitated entropy
Shades in perpetua
Just when to mark the dance
Tango de la soul
Be wary of thy fabrications
Thy mistress’ emotive alimonies
Invested in thy persona
Doth set thy noose so level mind thee
A mere catharsis of the act
The selling of the heart
To the trusted investment of a miser
Stagnant rote
As the youth hath capitulated
To the whims of flying hopes
Weak and dim far lights
Fireflies we leap for
Even catch but must let go
My friend I let her go
The creaking of a lonely Manhattan pier
Is quite like any other
Eerie in the nude of night
And from everglades
A comrade’s call
Hath summoned wraiths
That I imagine to be my own
Perched in naked spirit
A (black swan/anomaly) takes to fanciful
Flights of dire illusion
He’s left his (robe/persona) on the nocturne
And then perched in flight doth turn to stone
A gargoyle ridden to the ground
Ah the riddles of homogeny
As I’ve known a friend too well
To have taken stock in hope
Even better than a friend
Might know I know himself
I am a valley of conviction
The river flows on through me
Never ceases to give life
This hope is a memory
As like a vine doth cling to predilection
A subterfuge
The fermented betrayal of moons and moons
Brewing in the past
As when I was a fresh young talon
Ripe for sharpening
Lest affinitied to the dull edge of depth
Far too shallow to conceive its horror
And a tigress hunting aorta
(Read/inflamed) a liar
A sweet innocent abuse
A poetry of puppeteering
Of which the (empiricists/materialists)
Would metaphysically disown
As they chatted underwind
And as if the candlelight shadows
Could conceive of caring
For an objective ambiance
It was all just theater to them
A mere catharsis of the time
The lovely glow of sex
Embittered in the cracking hue of jealousy
A shortened fate
The Russian winter
Comrade!
I’ve held a shell up to your open ear
As you might listen to your blood flowing
And imagine the ocean vast
Watch it dripping in the sand
My knees have buckled in the gust
And prostrate to the past
I hold a shell of her imagining
All the lies we could have lived
And we chose like fools the truest among
To wager
A game of Russian roulette
Camaraderie is a smoking gun
To the barrel of her depth
As those who (brief/beg) against their sins
Are cowards on the harp
Far too hesitant of loving
And far too endeared of a farce
No comments:
Post a Comment