The brain,
what a glorious thought.
Surprisingly,
its splendour seems less remarkable
at times
Its purpose misunderstood
Where is its history?
Thoughts mined of Thoth's mind
Fossilised, it remains
in warm pellucid waters
Shallow as my human intellect

Deeper meditation takes forever
greys turns white undiplomatically
with all its human prejudices
Grey matters: its a matter of fact

It glows and grows
synapse after synapse
to perfection.  
A Shrine of Muses.
Each crenulated shelf follows
consciously
Serendipitous

Consider its vastness
lobe to lobe
hemisphere to hemisphere
where water entombs it
A hippocampus
Like Hippasus submerged
beneath open and violent sea
A cage for wild and hostile imaginations

To find its perfection
leave your thoughts behind
Dive deep outside yourself
The ocean ends where
reason reefs
the barbaric wreck sinks
senses are subdued
descend in slowly
The school
The sun
The rays
The colours
The species
The knowledge of life
The brain: Marvelously imperfect

That's right David!
You have a right
Not to remain silent

How odd of you?
To think of pastures...
a leisure of sort
So green and pristine
with the milk of laughter
T'was hard work
keeping you on the hill
in summer's sunshine
near the old barn
from spring to spring
Now memories are
limp and cold as winter
Rotting the heart of the tree
and even grass passes time
in faint contemplation of you

Sixteen, sixty
and seven
does not rhyme

in heaven. Hell
maybe. Keep that in mind

In purgatory
We pray for the saints

Sin first for those who wrote really bland stuff

Marlowe. Shakespeare.
You know, it is enough

Blank verse
Blank verse
A pandemonium

How odd of you?
To think of pastures...
a leisure of sort
So green and pristine
with the milk of laughter
T'was hard work
keeping you on the hill
in summer's sunshine
near the old barn
by the flowing spring
Now memories are
limp and cold as winter
Rotting the heart of the tree
and even grass passes time
in faint contemplation of you

Mannequin men; murals
stationed crazy
as a cat walks walls
There, mundane masks
Their bloodlust eyes
Such intensity
In the silence was night
Tiny drums crescendo
stubborn in teflon skin
Shooting stars stars.
Shoot like me, paparazzi
Free Speech Free Speech
Flee Speech,  a breach
It's Crazy!
Cats on a catwalk
Meow Meow Meow
Moving mannequin men

If this is innate,
why won't you wait?
Your mind won't keep
you asleep
Can you be who I am?
As I'd Conceived?
Carried in agonising pain?
Borne again and again,
naturally?

We'd slaughter ourselves
for your twisted paradigm
of ourselves. Now,
we slaughter ourselves
like sheep. Skin deep
Till our blood seeps
and colours a cause
It is not our body!
But, our mind drips
a physiology of remorse
We've suffered. No loss
deciding: who are we?