We survived progress
The three of us
Secluded high on Mt. Ararat
Safe from radioactive fog
We have all we need
More than we could ever want
We have everything
What kind of bees gather in such masses?
You're raining and then you're clear again
They'll pay to hear you babble such nonsense
You're surfing in near perfection
You're ruined by the pure maybe
After the loss, In the shadows
Fly fly fly fly fly
Float
I'll throw this to the ones watching
See just how hungry they are
On Ararat we long for a new language
To express the confusion of loneliness
Knowing that nothing will change a thing
But still, to talk
We must remind each other of who we are
Once in a while
It's not easy being the world
What did you come for?
A soliloquy?
A sonnet from a madman?
Madmen, true madmen don't do sonnets
They assault and jar
They resent being toyed with
In no uncertain terms will they tell you
What they think of you
In the guise of a poem
But chances are you won't get it
I sat in front of a wood burning stove
Feeding pages from a spiral notebook
To the fire
Leaves and more leaves sparsely scribbled on
Because there was a conciseness and brevity
To my poetry that conveyed the stark nature
The rudimentary nature of my state of mind
The flames ate it up
I apologize
I haven't smiled in such a long time
It's hurting my face
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
We survived progress
The three of us
Secluded high on Mt. Ararat
Safe from radioactive fog
We have all we need
More than we could ever want
We have everything
What kind of bees gather in such masses?
You're raining and then you're clear again
They'll pay to hear you babble such nonsense
You're surfing in near perfection
You're ruined by the pure maybe
After the loss, In the shadows
Fly fly fly fly fly
Float
I'll throw this to the ones watching
See just how hungry they are
On Ararat we long for a new language
To express the confusion of loneliness
Knowing that nothing will change a thing
But still, to talk
We must remind each other of who we are
Once in a while
It's not easy being the world
What did you come for?
A soliloquy?
A sonnet from a madman?
Madmen, true madmen don't do sonnets
They assault and jar
They resent being toyed with
In no uncertain terms will they tell you
What they think of you
In the guise of a poem
But chances are you won't get it
I sat in front of a wood burning stove
Feeding pages from a spiral notebook
To the fire
Leaves and more leaves sparsely scribbled on
Because there was a conciseness and brevity
To my poetry that conveyed the stark nature
The rudimentary nature of my state of mind
The flames ate it up
I apologize
I haven't smiled in such a long time
It's hurting my face
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