along came anyone

 

we build a world

no its, we built a world

free to breathe, to eat, love

and live, just live

impetus for progress, you say

we automated that too

a life anyone could master

a grainy picture

 

shocking, I know shocking,

even with the best of cameras,

the cadaver is rotting though,

and the stench is unbelievable,

beyond the mask really

suddenly a question occurs

like a fresh summer breeze

who was he, when he breathed

its best to rid ourselves

of the thieves and liars

slap shiny little metallics

onto our murderers

and hop skip around

the maypole, from the smell of him!

we're probably best rid

of his descendants

after all, earth is full

the age of fire and water

for a while we had clothes and foods 

the lazyboy the Ikean 

but the colds of earth 

layering days and years and urgences 

upon the male fantasy of Shelter 

has rendered the Impermiable Woman 

to earth and wind and now everything 

is fire and water 

everything changes, is earnest 

constantly progressing, passionate 

everyone is struggling all the time 

to stay afloat 

to soothe the burns of uncertain time 

and we are back in the uncomfortable rotunda 

of turning to the patternologists 

for comfort and comedy 

oh btw, are we still dimorphic 

did everyone agree? oh they voted!

antarki

 

the rays of the sun

they do not reach in time

they hop, they turn, they take

a day a month a season a year

a lifetime

but as long as we have mapped

every step, every stop, every angle every wait

and kept our eyes open

ready on the very end

of magic and forever

they will reach our hearts

all we need is faith

and insurance

forgiveness? healing?

what does that look like?

bastille dot

 

well hello look whose

voice just returned

in a faint surprised cry

that echoed in the louvre

up top on the burj

blinding and beautiful

bustling and alive

these walls are made

of a million dots

of those whose lives

they took

these walls are now

the owners of souls

the given, the taken

in a thousand years

if these walls could talk

or listen, or cry

or flower or fruit

or be anything but

a roof for dreams

of new walls, new roofs

tell me when

you're ready to tear

your soul off these walls

stand naked and hungry

on the coldest night

the hottest day

and wait for a new generation

to be born

under a tree, in a cave

to believe and believe

in the hamster

or the seer

for belief within

the velvet soul cage

it kinda is