Echoing in a room of memories
Struggling to understand themselves
Words stuck on a ruined tongue
Aiming to become anew
Benefits of a scam
Of a game
Of a plan
But the benefits of a failure?
That's one to undermine your proficiency
Not excluding the fact that your allocation of thoughts are all over the place
Varying off center
But carried efficiently
Like the assumption of happiness
Of trust and honesty
Subtle hints that should not be ignored
Regardless of the fact that you're in another's door
And i'm highlighting the points that should have stood out
Screaming, get out.
Yes it is, go slam poetry
the representative of insensitive
needs what kind of incentive?
to be bigger than this without risking intention?
i’m wishing she’d listen
how I wish she would l i s t e n
to the thoughts that i drop on her deaf comprehension
she swallows discretion
she f o r g e t s to mention
about her horns that grow thorns
that envelope her dimensions
My newest plant
is winter peas, which
can grow through the
cold down to 10 degrees
for many months till
they go to seed. The
young shoots cut
taste like peas, and
haven't been traditionally
eaten, but used for
cover crop to cold snap
and kale, modern off-grid
farmers passing it along,
frugal and inventive.
That the Austrian variety
tastes best of peas is
Existing, creating, remaining
In constant correspondence with
Fluorescent phantoms stalking
hypnogogic images of
Past selves spilled upon
A marble plane universe.
Fractals of shattered ether,
to touch an all,
Indescribably content with systematically
Rapidly engaging in disengagement.
Division of conscious accessibility,
Lately less than half.
Mundane introductions to despairs,
The residual stillness.
Folk compilations of concepts fabricating
Inquiries into legends of incentive for
Existing, creating, remaining.
I am the breath you exhale
That sends dandelion seeds asail.
To you, a momentary pleasure,
While it gives my life new measure.
You've plucked me from home,
Blew me into the unknown.
I might be a seed under your boot,
My existence could seem moot.
But next summer, when you've lost incentive
In momentary pleasures, no longer attentive,
I'll be in full bloom.
Pick me up, I'll rebound again soon.