Monday, December 12, 2011

Coffee fueled invectives
   Stained against the pages
Burning my forked tongue
  With half-mumble iterations

Oh how they howl
   See how they run
Half-baked exhortation
Scribbled by moonlight, or by sun
Making no sense of my neurons
   A million thoughts stuffed in a sack
Hail to thee oh chaotic process
   Electromagnetic ink stained flits
Straight from the mess

Scribbled  thoughts, whereabouts unknown
   Wired, alive; they deviate, wander and lose themselves  
Through fields of the imagined places whose denizens wander;
Wander town to town
Straight from the horse’s mouth;
   What is written on the subway walls?
Turn on the light and you will see
   Ecstasy, Symmetry, Poetry

The internal struggle; the last gasp;
   The last desperate attempt,
one last swing;
   One last kick at the can;
One more fabulous fling;
    I weigh the prose and cons;
The lights are down, it’s the empty stage;
   There was the idea, the poor struggling fetus;
Born in the ether, died on the page

Only, reborn somehow;
   Reborn; re-gifted; resurrected
Those penumbral lines, those darlings murdered
   Those treasures we find, bury, and find again
Those roads gone further

I have but one life to give; one thing for the pain;
    Inspiration locked in a trunk
And the key down the drain

Two thoughts diverged in a wood
   And I took the one less thunk

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