And the forefathers of
What we used to be are
Breaking apart just like
Moses and His sea

Lost brothers of the pen
Way back when
Holding truth by the neck
Grasping with liquor wet fingers
And beer stained members

We are in the throws of being demolished!
We have recalled nothing and foresee no future!
Lost in a battle we did not begin
And do not know how to end!

Recollecting myself in the grass
Rimbaud comes to mind
The crass genius who wept lucid green
Tears that tore through mens minds like
Knives and bullets through the spine

Chattering bones of belittlement
We have come not a step further to the goal
Which is transparent in of itself!

Where are flowers which have been
Plucked and will continue to be plucked?

Lost in a sea of nameless

Noiseless

Faceless electricity

Our books are burning as are our minds
Time no longer matters for up
Is now down and forward is multiplied and
The minds that will not, cannot, wish not
Praise it like some sort of child minded God
Will be cast out to a bubbling sea foaming with
Mouse pads and the membranes of the ones
Once called "geniuses" and "mad men"

Each tread of my jacket has torn
And the worn out pattern has wilted
I see fog on every street corner like a
Ghost drunk and without a way home

Purgatory is the wail of Davis's trumpet

Life is the teeth chattering sound
Of a typewriters keys against the page
Stabbing the ink like stabbing the man
Who bleeds for you and not for him

Oh I see old times with wisps of relics
Painted in the gold and silvers
Of the God's

How man used to play with their meaninglessness!

How we used to boast our curse, our poison, our way!

A gift clad in clam like stillness
Upended by stormy negligence
Foot note former love affair
She lays gripping the ends of her hair

History in itself
Is an illusion of man
Of life of
The way it was and is

Jack lands as plans stand
On rotting tinder melted
From the fire of the elders

We old rhythms mean
Rhyme to no reason for
Our season for has passed
And the last man has smiled
We are soon to be in the past

An apology from
The eyes of the seer
Who, in seething mass, makes
Out for the entrance hall for
He falsely sees the "all"

Contrary while in certainty
Harmony within chaos
He within her where
Mountains move for no one

A single step is
A single step until
It becomes
Two

Then

It is a journey