Monday, February 27, 2017

I pine for the opine

Now where is that past in jest?
Axed the split mind of a mental
neuron's behest. Corpus callosum?

The fine devide, the brain-child
of a clever disguise or languissement?

I was told there is great power in pinecones,
so i learned to opine from a cone in a grapevine.

Apropo to stomps some grape, in sport
it's just agape... the highest sort of love
man to god and god to man. I'm agape.

I feel a mental rape. Where's my rapier?

I want to whine, i'll take more wine so
that i may indulge to opine my opinion...

who's voice is just a minion. How cute and clever.

Whatever.

I miss what i lost through the fault of my own
where divisions were carved on an ancient stone.
The blood long dried and the aurochs are gone.

If I knew old opinions would last, I would opine
to an unknown upper class, and be a silent lass.

Silently i suffer to silence the sword, I give my word
it is not small task to quiet the cast of opine.

Does dead words like trees leave a shadow behind?

or a memory of a fleeting linger, a scent of pine.

O pine of mine... the last cast of the trigger finger.






Monday, February 13, 2017

The Event... wah happened?

With all the tawdry bullship that ever came to mount,
for all the lonely weirdos upon a wishing fount,
a penny for your thoughts and a dollar for your soul...
hells's bells have found you out as the story stork unfolds,
or unfurls... hey, who would throw swine at pearls?

The snake is herding up the sheep, he sends his venom
while you sleep and by the dawn's most early hour
you forget your dreams to a poisonous tower... of lies.

Yea but... but what?

Heads with brains are scratching where, beliefs rule hearts made unaware
that all is well at the wishing well, but they lie in secret for insider intel.

It's just a program. Waiting for a channel change, you cannot do it for
it hasn't a name that knows yours. Unless you charge your mission to the stars.
It's just a money game. No one is laughing (hardy har har)

So the "event" has come and then it's gone, there was no fanfare or even a song.
Made up from rights that came out wrong, who could blame one for holding
fast to a memory of a fleeting past of happiness? Was it really just discontented winter's sappiness?

 A sticky situation at best, a trick of traders from the fall of jest.

When all is said and all is done, when numbers and science add to a
spooky one and righteous religions have sprung out their faith to a race
to save the human face... Face it. Summer is coming to those whose plan, is
the winning over of the curious man or ma'am. Woo-man or She-devil is battling with axes while working hard and paying taxes. To Whom? Is it the man in the moon peddling gloom and doom?

The game or "event" is over, and guess as
you might... no one has won. Wasn't that fun?

If you dangle a carrot to a downcast donkey will it continue to follow?

It's a plausible plausibility that this "one" will never swallow.

Carrion.