A flower couldn’t blossom, lacking oxygen, cursed by
nature—abandoned to street colors; life with elephants, filing shark teethe,
racing—nowhere to call solace; a
California ache, magazines full of ideals, brochures
bleeding the human instinct. A soul has penchants, paying penance, one wonders
what order is: a castle inside interior, a
notice signifying sin, two or three steps behind
justice; learning to twist sentences, imaging the reader, fumbling between
pictures. Time having a place. Discussion
reframed. City whales chasing dreams. And Art made it
worse, formed in parts, a soul is a monster—to dirt, back to sorrows, smelling
a pleasing scent. Memories. Rebirth. &
human rugs.
Engine power, diesel travels, snowy valleys, melting mountains, most
disregarding the years filled with miseries, for today, there was joy! Many wrapped in
hopes—in the next life—with parable and fable to
seduce the hearer; days lost, jackals and hyenas, too many passwords on
existence; sameness of song, gallicas blooming,
wrestling a foxglove; most watching life, edging into
silence, waiting on opportunity. Paradise is sad. To carry a hippopotamus. Trying
to fly indelicate weather. And they saw
him, filled with favor, compelled to investigate,
assuming its dark magic—perception of the third-eye, decision of a human soul,
too many suffering interior—either a blessing or
a dungeon or in between—where have most walked? Intuition grieving, no answers, wondering
why tears fall unbeknownst to senses; leaping wings, filled to capacity,
pushed to contain more—leviathan eating monsters, roles
inverted, trying to keep eyes on Love—with rumors seeming true: the pride of
fashion, the dignity in honesty, to realize
Love is losing lure—with interests waning on essence;
so unfigured—so gray—born to become what pleases Spirit; if only so simple,
each thought is a decision, as becoming
countenance. A flower couldn’t blossom, lacking sustenance,
cursed to exist in vain—abandoned to numbness; to know excellence, to praise
ideals, to understand instincts, if to
live according to sociality, identity shifting. Thunderstorms. Glancing at Love. To
realize certain exhilaration—found in personhood—meter long ambition; until the
next life, hoping we meet again, the best of those observed years.
