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ZerotheshortswordPoems
I am not confused simply busy Now leave before I get grizzly. Whatever do you mean? I am here under strict orders Of spontaneous curiosity And I demand to know your work! There is no work, only pieces. I am a man of completion, not creases. You are a mule molding in mire! Old as rules and just as amusing. I can see very clearly that this is A pile of stones playing with A pile of paper! By my own universal exclamation! I could not find a greater quotation, If I remain as rocks, this is my notation. One stone for each adoration. Adoration? I see nothing of the sort Only lines and space and ink and air And breath and fire and ash and an Old man with far too many abandoned Projects. Where do you see this fire? Of yearning and burning, I do tire. I have wheeled through many a choir, Each lie is a life and each man a liar. Now, do you understand my profession? Not in the slightest, You could be a blacksmith for all I want. My young vision has cast fishnets On your old hands and we find you Are not a sea creature, Not a fish A bird Trash A man An oracle A mortal Nor a machine. How am I to pull together this puzzle When the only pieces i may use, Are the ones that were never there?
0
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
Puzzling
I am not confused simply busy Now leave before I get grizzly. Whatever do you mean? I am here under strict orders Of spontaneous curiosity And I demand to know your work! There is no work, only pieces. I am a man of completion, not creases. You are a mule molding in mire! Old as rules and just as amusing. I can see very clearly that this is A pile of stones playing with A pile of paper! By my own universal exclamation! I could not find a greater quotation, If I remain as rocks, this is my notation. One stone for each adoration. Adoration? I see nothing of the sort Only lines and space and ink and air And breath and fire and ash and an Old man with far too many abandoned Projects. Where do you see this fire? Of yearning and burning, I do tire. I have wheeled through many a choir, Each lie is a life and each man a liar. Now, do you understand my profession? Not in the slightest, You could be a blacksmith for all I want. My young vision has cast fishnets On your old hands and we find you Are not a sea creature, Not a fish A bird Trash A man An oracle A mortal Nor a machine. How am I to pull together this puzzle When the only pieces i may use, Are the ones that were never there?
Written by
Zerotheshortsword
American
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
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