#metals
A CONFUSING DAY FOR CUCUMBER FISH
I’m not being able to escape this, in parts, either on the slip where the drifters weigh themselves against daily chores, or to the perch, where against the millions of suns striking into the cabinets where devoted criminal ****** *** offenders aid and abet their children:
flying kites, tossing bread crumbs to water fowl, playing tag, hide and go seek, or
Cooking food, drinking cold alcoholic beverage, and listening as a friend with a guitar sings about the child born in the mountains as a man, only to find the world as a legend.
Still there is no escape. There is only the peril of night stretching 99% of our brains across the tepid sky, only to wait for the light of those suns to fade, and then only have to worry about the dross and muck on every fingerprint of every man from this place or the next. These are fingerprints that ooze the familiar green devil whose face familiar ages our futures before they can even happen. Then we succumb to the bitterness of these years on the perch, the stoop, the step, wandering around the chollas in nothing but a pair of aquamarine boy’s briefs. This is not insanity. This is the product of insanity. This is not losing, this is the product of living under a government that has been taking what it could not afford, and who trades in what hurts rather than helps what ails rather than aids.
This is the ratcheting heard inside the bruised and frail hearts of many. The pain inside their backs and legs and arms and heads is real. It smells real. It sounds real. It feels real, but no one here has ever known what it is that is happening, therefore they do not understand the great costs being played with when these oozing poison-stricken fingertips start playing at the game of life, or they start playing at the game of their neighbor’s life. There is an outcome of sunset still yet to be seen, and that is the inescapability and uncertainty of millions of children being born today, tomorrow, and hereafter. The children tomorrow should not have to worry about washing someone’s fingerprints off of the skin they have yet to be born inside. Stretching across the dusty and quiet streets, if this Wild West is closing its wildness out and isn’t doing anything but wandering west, there isn’t a committee of sanity that will prevail. Especially as we choke through the gravely heavy metals meddling with the untold stories of tomorrow’s sons and daughters.
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 12:45 AM UTC
The drought was
very bad luck
for a emergency
economy
specially depends
on agriculture.
A drought area
of a
thief-farmer
is needed
to dig and
store
precious metals.
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 9:42 AM UTC
We've carved a whole in this Earth
and lined it with lead,
put up our walls of wires and thoughts
till we trick ourselves into thinking that this cold depression
is the world all around.
We see the life beyond
yet our gaze is distant
our blood kin forgotten
in new ties forged from iron and gold.
We've carved a whole in this Earth
and now it's filled,
the billions huddled in the orb of metal.
Can we find balance or will we just roll away?
Fall down the hill of reality
and circle lost in infinity?
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 9:54 AM UTC
Be like a metal (Fe), strong and firm
Most are malleable, and brittle are some
Be like a metal (Cu), conduct and shine
Share your happiness and make the world fine
Be like a metal (Au), precious and rare
Save Mother Nature with utmost care
Be like a metal (steel), free from rust
Preventing global warming is a must
Be like a metal, with Solid, liquid and gaseous states
Ignore prejudice (Caste, Creed, Race) and make good mates
Be like a metal, with sonorous and refractory properties
Spread the music of love and curb hatred qualities
Be like a metal, heavy (Pb) and light (Al)
Always be united and never indulge in fight
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 5:20 AM UTC
Curled up, bright yellow petals glinting like glistering metals
Trees that rise and bow, silent now
Cars rushing into the dark, crushing a slow-moving lark,
Cats curled up before a fire ignoring the nearby church choir
Singing melodious paeans to god before a stature soaked in blood.
A rising bright silver moon floating across the sky too soon
Howling dog and wolf scampering across each shadowed roof
In that, the foulest night of the year pumped-up with fear,
With sepulchral screams hammering the brain, the sane and insane
Shackled to the earth before, not after, death.
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC