I shoved the absurdity into the woodpile
The fire was crackling and raging
Licking the bottom of the *** that is already worn
Demons and ghosts and phantoms of people who went crazy are dancing inside
Why are you moving it, how tiring!
The cat in the room asked
Why don't you join us, how stupid!
Red ***** on the chopping board asked
No, I said, no
I used ridiculousness to pile firewood higher
The fire will not go out in nine hundred and ninety-one days
I'm going to use this fire to cook, bathe and change clothes

Why should you study?
And persevere? And listen?
And write? For people--
For the people you'll see, for there are just
few you'll. And still fewer among them, who
will be around to see you.

In a makeshift heaven of this world,
This world fits right in- not without gaps,
Not the best close-packing ever.
Which lets you think and shift the pieces forever.

Not at all exciting, if you want to
See it that way. But do you have a choice--
Except all the the ones you haven't tried
already? Hinged to the far side of moon
You might be, but wither you'll soundlessly
off this grand tree. So a fair chance there is
you might see, where this is going and realize soon: You won't know if science has advanced, You won't know if you've made enough amends, You won't know anything
except for the people you'll see, even what they've to say, you've to understand.

How did I get here?
Did I build this place?
I'm on the highest cliff
Gazing down towards the skyline
The skyscrapers move like trains
Bound for regions unknown
Do they ever stop?
Where do they end up?

Oh, Shadowmare,
I ride on your back,
please charge forward for god's sake.

Hopping over squares like a maniac,
oh please,
you're making me giddy alright.

Only at the outpost,
will you be satisfied,
horsing around playing mind games.

On the hill,
the enemy in fear, asking,
what's the stallion doing up here.

Soon the enemy king choked,
and died of a heart attack,
We won the war,
after all.

I can picture pumpkin rain
Falling from October’s sky
Even wisemen dare to try
Reason’s gambrels to enchain

Though,
When this pulp falls on the leaves
And by liters floods the streets
We shall dance under these drops
While we sing grotesque swift songs

I can picture pumpkin rain
Falling from October’s sky
We no longer can remain
Dry

A society of replicas march
heads bowed.
Feet that grind heavy over concrete ground.
To admire their deity,
with empty smiles
Lives on trial.
Lives in denial.

From people to clothes
movies and shows
Communication stripped vacant of what we all know.

A society of replicas march
heads bowed.
feet that grind heavy over concrete ground.
Robbed of beauty.
Blind to earth.
but what is there to see,
when all you see is dirt?

A society of replicas march
heads bowed.
Feet that grind heavy over concrete ground.
eyes magnetized to their devices,
pulling their faces to their vices.
With glossy eyes
fueled by bitter lies
internalized to home.
But still to claim
no better relationship,
Than between man and phone.

Basking in the same star hardly makes souls familiar,
It takes time, sometimes even lives,
Yet familiarity becomes a curse 'tis that souls depart
And all depart- some by death, some by hatred, the omni-vice,
So I sit where I'll be free from too much of familiarity
No one to wave, no one to read out loud the epitaph of my eyes,
Unknown crowd is a bliss- the first mother one ever cherishes,
Covered on the lap velvety ******* the milk of possibility
Yet be carefree to the cruelty of a union resulting into solidity.
The star revolves- crowd thickens and familiarity lessens,
Unless, one joins even bigger crowd,
O harbinger of equity! Talk the same tongue, dressed in the same shroud,
All the same space, all the same meat, same journey, all equally proud,
Worms too rule like the ruler who did justice to his throne,
So familiar on this top, I'm one jump away from home.

You shout at the void
and wait for the echo
but like a duck's quack
nothing comes back

(why is the duck not quacking)
I cannot hear it though
I know its beak is moving

And we keep shouting
at the day

A duck quacks back

Absurdity
is as throwing
a fork at a banana,
Giving them nicknames
And a narrative and calling
the event a Funeral, for
every banana that's
Never made it out
Alive o'cafeteria
Sorry I gave
mundane-
twisted              !
a me-                O
aning                B
as my                a
lyfe                   n
**                     a  
lds                    n
nun                  A Justyn Huang