as much as i want to rage out about dandelions
and how i can never seem to find one in teary-eyed dinge
i cannot forsake objectivity
Lord, Lord, what is the Word?
here i am wishing i was more well-read
here i am wishing i was more, or less dead

shoot me if i must wait

worn out
dying of doubt
trying to distract yourself

just keep
pushing the heap
you dont need nobody else

long last
when it has passed
you will be so glad you did

just keep
falling asleep
shut your mouth and keep it hid

slow down
you got no right
to be a bumbling burdensome friend
stay down
and close your eyes
cause nothings gonna matter in the end

An eternal shadow lies in the high cave,
Sliding the sound of birds from the lofty mountains.
The icy arms of the peak follow them:
Hand in hand down the quiet ***** they go.

From north to south, in every province hence,
A shout rings out, a call to arms—and war:
That snake which slithers silent o'er the fence,
Shall swallow swift this ancient land once more.
As rough the beating of the battle drum,
Still rougher are the hands of men who ****;
Though noble cowards scruple to succumb,
Too oft are they dismissed for men who will.
Let rivers red run over tranquil fields,
And stain the hands of peasant, peer, and priest,
Till foes who've wronged us either die or yield,
Then only will this nation scorned know peace.
This way, I guess a billion souls or more
Have fallen victim to barbaric war.

we rivers, lonely, cold and lost,
though we had said we would
resume our course, still here we drift,
becoming ice sheets: silent, stiff.
another day, another shift
to weigh the opportunity cost.
we failed to warm the wood;
our taiga turns to permafrost.

when you
got a promise of gold
some things
more than others get
old
stay out in the sun
it all seems to fade a-right away

tell me
what do you see
in them
that you can't find in
me
well, life isn't fun
i just wanna fade a-right away

I see apes walking on ice,
I see snakes slithering on snow,
lively eyes indulge my dream,
and it haunts me.

worry, worry, worry.
marked drips on a stained walkway
catch my stare so often
I forgot I was looking

by two levels, I drop.
the ground awaits me.
today, I am sure-footed;
I will not buckle.

an enigma passes:
I wrest free my heart,
but too late!
all that is left...
a cold afternoon,
a quiet memory,
a regretful encounter.

and countless others
who, in unfortunate confidence
might turn away in disdain...
they won't know a flower's scent.

if I were one of them,
I would stand up and say,
"Advance, Collingchance!
Attach your legions to mine,
and together we will conquer!"
or I would approach you like a highwayman
and make demands of you....

but since I am not,
my only demand
is that you accept me
for what I am.

yellowtree yelling
at stalwart stacks'
thick black clouds.

yellowtree dying
under smogspace
frowns, drowns.

Zdzislaw
born of silence
fielddweller
cutter violence