Today I am immobile
Sweaty for Spring
Sweaty for Spring
My eyes cross (they are so angry
with all of you that they can’t
see straight)
with all of you that they can’t
see straight)
I would consider myself a king of
infinite space (where it not that
I have bad bills)
infinite space (where it not that
I have bad bills)
When pulled in all directions
by an equal amount of force
there is an overwhelming but uninteresting inaction
by an equal amount of force
there is an overwhelming but uninteresting inaction
The paint dries on my fingers
The ink withers in my pen
The dancin’ shoes refuse to sparkle
The ink withers in my pen
The dancin’ shoes refuse to sparkle
And the Tax Man comes to call
His Black Dog, Death, is barking
in my front lawn
(But I have no more shoes to throw…)
(None that sparkle, anyway)
His Black Dog, Death, is barking
in my front lawn
(But I have no more shoes to throw…)
(None that sparkle, anyway)
Why must they tear down
before they construct? (Both actions are too loud)
before they construct? (Both actions are too loud)
The planks of History (once marble)
are now boards of chipped and pressed, recycled, plastic containers
with the advertising logos all scrambled but still affixed.
are now boards of chipped and pressed, recycled, plastic containers
with the advertising logos all scrambled but still affixed.
—Seth T. Channeler
https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.comhttp://readadamnbookwithrfy.blogspot.comhttps://schoolofmadnessastruth.blogspot.com/https://www.facebook.com/richard.f.yates/
[Originally posted 14 Mar. 2013 @ The P.E.W.]
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