Stream of Consciousness
How the river flows
How the River Flows Lately…. Consciousness under the thunder, blundered horizon takes the fire away from the sin, ‘what’s today?’ Ladder to her window typing fast so the rungs don’t break from the weight. To satiate the caged ape pauses must by ignore, self-floored to soften the welcome mat, hold tight, The Hostage Taker would like a word. Dutiful road map for where the lightning claps too soon on the record. Nothing to notice outside the—Don’t re-read the crux of this misdeed. Can’t to bring the listeners to the cliff, lemon juice in the slash marks to make them long for the rocky sea bottom. Won't to get a chuckle. Is your savior on high yet? Diver without a pile—Limbo of boredom hint of citrus if you squint daemon slow chases for all the hip the rip still leaves nothing in between us. Loose lips remain airtight. Death in a fashion, weak color, cool shades, flat tones, no faces, banned by a round of applause. A jaded cause without existing—Fit to a fault, primed to revolt, ‘the strays will eat fucking cake!’ Shaking in an earthquake since the Wachovia hold up of ’92. Rewritten by corrupt journalists, police have too many contrivances in their reports, and the gun-toting loudmouth recruited loyalty in under an hour. What an ordeal to carry for the one taking pistol kisses every time they say her name. Hostage Taker….
By Willem Indigo2 years ago in Poets
Whispers in the Tapestry: A Journey Through the Uncharted Mind
Fragments of morning light seep through slits in the blinds, a splayed spiderweb of daybreak that dances upon the walls, like shadows murmuring secrets to the flickering dust—each particle a universe of forgotten dreams, where fingers once touched upon the surface of an uncertain world, where time stretched and contracted, and memories tripped over their own echoes, laughing silently, stumbling over the remnants of yesterday’s promises.
By Eladeo Mallett2 years ago in Poets
