the clouds become smoke-
whispers, warnings on the horizon of the things to come.
the armies marching forward.
their worn-down boots stomping on the faces
of our tired, our poor, our huddled masses.
the mud that splashes up invades my nose
invades my eyes until all i can see is
the shining sea and the pipes running through it.
one sound is heard in our reason-proof bomb shelter
the thump, thump, thump of our drummer boy
standing up front, reminding those below to row us backward.
my lips are cracked, my face is dry, my feet are bleeding.
where can I rest?
where can I lay my head?
You have denied me salvation, you have refused me house and home and happiness.
Where do you stand?
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Friday, January 14, 2011
it always astounds me how quickly death takes one over. You no longer have a name, you are merely a body. You are a photograph on a mantle frame. You are a memory. You are a body to be buried.
You fall to the ground, no life in your eyes. You remain warm for a short while.
it always astounds me how insignificant we all are.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
there's a ringing in your corpus callosum
your pupils pulse to the beat
the warmth in your body electrifies your soul
everything's really funny, jumping feels good, yelling is the only way to communicate
drumming through your head is everythought
then everythought goes out your mouth
and it's really funny
love who you love and never look back. FIDLAR
2011
your pupils pulse to the beat
the warmth in your body electrifies your soul
everything's really funny, jumping feels good, yelling is the only way to communicate
drumming through your head is everythought
then everythought goes out your mouth
and it's really funny
love who you love and never look back. FIDLAR
2011
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