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32
The clouds hum in soft white,
As the sky sings electric blue,
With the strings played by sunlight,
And percussion by the meadow rue,

If I stare into the distance long enough,
Will these thoughts pass on to you?
TheIdleOwl Jul 13
31
There's a hurdler in the distance,
Approaching from afar,
Nothing struck him in this instance,
Though the setting was bizarre

He somersaults each in a flurry,
As the clouds threaten to rain,
The flowers flutter with worry,
As they sight the old warplane

He runs straight out the exit,
Takes a right onto an avenue,
Where streetlights line the docks,
And pebbles question you

Waves crackle over the pier,
As he flies across the decking,
He throws his hands up and volunteers,
To the cold hiss of forgetting

Some time later he awakes,
On a beach of pebbles and shells,
Hasty escape perhaps a mistake,
A fall from carousels

A tower commands the sea around,
Windowless, aged concrete,
He laughs and spins at what he's found,
Alive but incomplete
TheIdleOwl Jul 11
30
With this metal nonsense the case is lost,
The answers were held in the diplomat's loft,
And as he pulled the ladder down,
He was killed at the order of the counsel to the crown,

A flare thrown up, the crackling began,
It all collapsed as truth escaped in a van,
Glowing charcoal, stained metal and ash,
Are all that's left of the enlightener's cache
TheIdleOwl Jul 11
29
I'm sat here,
Wasting my time,
Thinking up,
Memories that rhyme,

The flag hangs,
There's no life,
A homeless man,
Silently declines,

The black on the bricks,
Historic pollution,
Endless talks,
But no solution,

Empty balconies,
A silent square,
The wind fills out,
A questionnaire
TheIdleOwl Jul 10
28
All kinds of things float above us,
There's a hurdle in the grave,
An apostle in the knave,
We've lost all molecular sense,
The postman cracks his whip and dances
The swimmer lost his flippers chancing,

All kinds of things float below us,
The saltwater trickles into the pan,
Hustlers tell us because they can,
Our ears take in everything
But our brains only some,
We don't pick what goes where,
We only know the depth of the dare,
We're lost before we've even begun.

All kinds of things float with us,
The man sits with his head in his hands,
Next to the grass plant,
As dust sparkles in the air,
And glides to the floor,
That's all of us,
And nothing more.
TheIdleOwl Jul 9
27
If I stare at myself
long enough
in the mirror.

Will I leave this body?
TheIdleOwl Jul 3
26
It's not being dishonest,
It's just hiding the truth,
My eyes aren't a gateway,
They're a wall blocking you,
For if you could see,
The storms and winds,
That echo round my brain,
You'd blame yourself,
You'd be crushed by the pain

The dust is piling up,
Forgotten not weightless,
Filtering me through its rage,
This is the the man that I hate,
But if I cough,
And splutter it out,
It'll be blown back at me,
I'll be wearing it's mask,
Like an accessory

I've lived like this now,
Pressing my veins to stop,
Guiding the words,
Out from the library on top,
But atop the stairs,
They flow out free,
As months and months of wane,
Led to this moment,
To me lost in the rain.
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