Some lexicon you got there, kid, some funny picks you choose from the lot you were taught, some things you spit that I look for and just aren’t there
Why do you need poetry and bloviation to tell your story? What aviation, fight or flight does that give you, burrowing your meaning in storms of complexity
Does it do you no work to simplify
See a problem, rectify it
Why do you look at a shoelace and untie it
Unlace the strands of humanities patterns like the peel of an orange
The earth is one big orange
And we flatten it like a piece of paper
Superheros were given capes so that in flat spaces, they fly
Why do you try to weigh yourself down with salty slabs of thoughts you cry?
What is it about the look in that eye the cooks you so hot you break like clay in kiln your eyes see a film in everything
It’s all a deep surround sound movie
And to you, it’s so rewarding to blink in your real-time recording
Camcorder on board with the lines you drew dragging your sneakers in the dirt
It’s random like that but it’s raw and dries like glue- clear, but smells like something manmade and stuck together
And there’s noise around you, however, whatever overstimulation annoys you, you are not alone
People will notice you and say,
Who’s this?
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 11:06 AM UTC
Some lexicon you got there, kid, some funny picks you choose from the lot you were taught, some things you spit that I look for and just aren’t there
Why do you need poetry and bloviation to tell your story? What aviation, fight or flight does that give you, burrowing your meaning in storms of complexity
Does it do you no work to simplify
See a problem, rectify it
Why do you look at a shoelace and untie it
Unlace the strands of humanities patterns like the peel of an orange
The earth is one big orange
And we flatten it like a piece of paper
Superheros were given capes so that in flat spaces, they fly
Why do you try to weigh yourself down with salty slabs of thoughts you cry?
What is it about the look in that eye the cooks you so hot you break like clay in kiln your eyes see a film in everything
It’s all a deep surround sound movie
And to you, it’s so rewarding to blink in your real-time recording
Camcorder on board with the lines you drew dragging your sneakers in the dirt
It’s random like that but it’s raw and dries like glue- clear, but smells like something manmade and stuck together
And there’s noise around you, however, whatever overstimulation annoys you, you are not alone
People will notice you and say,
Who’s this?
Request permission to use this poem