Saturday, September 10, 2016


In the beginning, in some circles was the Logos,
or the shhhh... word. A dangerous conspiracy of
sorts, when the wind, the birds, and leaves always
shone fine, like an infinity sign. An eight, like a
crazy, but not broken like a nine.

So the logos, or legos, or lagos, or sow the lugos
saw through from the beginning of our time...
a new age, so fraught in history and so sublime...
a matter of a concept so lonely, like a decrepit father,
could only be time... yes. out of mind. fraulein.

oh, no, it's mother goose on the loose... take a gander.

The word as I write is so proper and contrived, poe it try...
but it ain't like my homey who died. A mystery to the one who
loves poetic hisssstory. Honey, take a pill... I feel a chill
just waiting for the hot sweat of sympathy. Yea, you do know me.

Logos, the beginning and end of a psycho trend, your word is only
as good as your name brand... you jolly green giant, I saw it in a birdseye of yesterday. As green man of Starbuck grunge, competes with the runner of Dunking... I'd lay scones to donuts that it will never be free... it's just
Logos trash talking the money out of me. Curious or curiouser, I have none, don't you see? A looking glass wish that took a devil out of me. A crow giggles by,
thinking, a raven i'll be. Nevermore, a folly of wish for your soul...too easy. (duh)

It's when I sit on my tuffet, shunning those curds and whey, I am the spider
that frightened and fancied those lascivious gods and snared them away. Logos,
as word, has nothing to say. Uh...

Good day!  

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