Tuesday, November 30, 2010


There was a time in my memory
That holds no weight
Battles were waged with purpose
Claymores rose and fell into crimson rivers of carnage
Those days have died
And we have fallen grey
In the incessant evening
It was a memory that I was never a part of

Cars rolling along aimlessly
Some of them with their lights illuminating the road
…Many more without
ambiguity remains dissolved in constant smog
Exhaust seeps into the cracks of every fortress ever constructed
And they stand as ominous figures upon castles of paper
Claiming each was a paradise scribbled in ink

Carrion-eaters refuse to gyre in the sky
Preferring to indistinctly saunter in our circles
Waiting for the mistake to fall like freezing rain
The excuse that they cower behind
in black-on-white automobiles that illuminate the already lit world
in the haze of flashing blue
willingly, they all lack headlights
outward exerting a blatant exhibition for the inner, vacant core

waxen molds whose hands gesture wildly
if only anything could grasp the matte in their frozen eyes
they could not understand the voltage
that can be expressed in the moist caves that man inhabits
as they wander incessantly
for a place called “home”

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