The tempo is in the calm.
Much how lightning keeps her thunder in suspense.
My private thoughts are in the wind
Between the spoken word and the microphone.
Temples have no god.
The desert drowns the cactus and the snake the same.
Caverns tune their Hymns to Mars
To harmonize the choir.
Strange...Fruit Bats lose their radar and collide
With mangoes, more than Fate.
And People think of Stunning
As a tazer and a can of Mace.
And nothing is more hopeless than attempting.
When you're counting,
lose your place.
When the monkey cracks your Abacus
It figures
you'll improve mistakes.
Blunder into Wisdom
With more open arms
than Shiva
When you pray.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 12:58 PM UTC
The tempo is in the calm.
Much how lightning keeps her thunder in suspense.
My private thoughts are in the wind
Between the spoken word and the microphone.
Temples have no god.
The desert drowns the cactus and the snake the same.
Caverns tune their Hymns to Mars
To harmonize the choir.
Strange...Fruit Bats lose their radar and collide
With mangoes, more than Fate.
And People think of Stunning
As a tazer and a can of Mace.
And nothing is more hopeless than attempting.
When you're counting,
lose your place.
When the monkey cracks your Abacus
It figures
you'll improve mistakes.
Blunder into Wisdom
With more open arms
than Shiva
When you pray.
Request permission to use this poem