We the living
though as lessees of time
yet count not ourselves
as unwanted remnants
in its disordered chronicle
we can still reach
for the forthcoming sublime-
that which is alive
is still stirred
by the ***** blood
of our unyielding heart-
our veins pulsate
we don't fall apart
resolute and undeterred
the now we regard
as but the start--

we'll set sail
into the light despite
the darkness
of the past night
the wrongs
of our past
we will set right--

humanity
is a tiny craft
swarmed
by the sea
cruel and rough
misfortunes assail
but our will
is steel-clad
we don't bow out
we are tough--

greatness we seek not
but our each endeavour
is to test, experience, discover
the lease
is never our leash
though none is a hero
we don't weep
deplore or implore

dying
is but a metaphor
we are larger
than what we are
we will not live
life by half.

I guess the madman
have calculated urges
disturbing angles
and unknown destination
exponential compromises
are words unsaid.
leaving leads to a labyrinth
full of unwanted things there
are the sounds you hear
of your own heart beating
that then seems to echo out
and fall to pieces
imposing places of
contemplation seeking direction
and comforting
they're all of the skills
They are barred
with in Wheeling, Broken,
and imperfect scars
scars that speak
in voices without tongues
They fluently create the lies
currency of  and for
causing discomfort as designed
glinches come at random
places that there is concern
that the illusions tell now,  cherished
and innocent versions all dressed up
False faces of who we are
feeding risky randomness
auditions held for the part of grown up obsession over
the past happy to give
flawless proof of lives In motion
not punching like creatures
Vultures circling over poisoned enclosures
those explorers so eagerly lost
create what happens
and I recognize the patterns
and the direction entices them
the misunderstood
They,  the lacking
the admiration leaching from the dependent
alien reasons for force
human consumption
we want so we approach
imagining admiration
as the fake see clearly
This comes along empty and fruitless weeping on road
they twist and turn to our destination listen for proof
Find strangeness from the terrified smiling as reflex is often fun to witness
Life is a marketing bonanza
Fretted upon by the aged
and confusing the greater purpose
It is unflattering
The images are set on dancing
in dream- like exuberance
But for our Commercial grade lifestyles worn out just as the next latest arrived motion that spurs ordinary
traditions are lessees and should lead
follow behind today showing.
direction and dramatic pauses
decisions create ruined morals
floating on an endless breeze
they are carried past the gate
seemingly entitled
as if born there and welcome
Off is the practiced flaws
missing is the counter balance
confrontation unspoken is kin to action anger is without conscience
mistakes have been made.
deception is practiced,  perfect.