Skipbomb

Does skipbomb or doxy or hecatomb sound right?
A skelp into the subworld for a malaise pubcrawler at night
A pugilist or passive to grovel or walk apace
To live so downtrodden yet walk with askance upon your face
Hypocrite or realist or boredoms borrowed hand
No slog is hit any harder than the one who is melted by sand
To die alone or live with many in the world of kingdoms end
The skullduggery of the foolish who I once claimed as my friend
Sacrosanct or evil or of the timely brazen sorts whose life was
vainly shattered in a room of painted tarts"Oh, rot and death", says
the man under the hole "For I am stuck in this place and I haven't any soul."

So I tell him to give me time then I shall find him what he needs
Yet he reaches for the watch painted on his lowly sleeve
He says, "I have already got my time but the shadow of the bomb
is not on me!"

Skipbomb or doxy or hecatomb, goodnight
The rubber duck lay in the tub
When the bomb shut off the light

Nonentity

Now for a story so dark it will blacken both of your eyes
pretend for a moment and believe, that all people have one mind
the thoughts they think are the same,
the walk they walk is rhythmic, glaze eyed and sparse
these people with one mind sing one song
they play it with their tongues yet speak it with their hands
their bodies ever moving,reap over and rake the land
All is one, the color and shade the same
oh, lets pretend, but what for?
look up, for this is the way it has been and is!

What a trade of the stocks!

And I turned around just as the nudists put on their
clothes now that the sun is going down
for with no light no one can see their vanity
and if I can no longer see the light
does this mean I have lost my sanity?

Brains Ingravity

The crucial part is that we think we know how life is until another
layer is lifted then we feel incredibly stupid because we had never
thought to see  things that way, we feel narrow and shallow with
cataract eyes and hum dumb ears

It is  like the layers of the cornea of an eye, forever, believing that we
can see and that sight is a simple thing.  We take advantage of
something that we might not deserve or then again sight could be
the punishment rendered to make one swallow their own tongue,
with a given want for more of the same.

There are many curves and molecules that make us as we are, and
tilted with a gilded edge, our brains ingravity has the ability to pull
us apart

murmur

the bell that I hear in the distance
from it,the air ruffles the tree
branches in front of my window
i see the ripples
of life trading energies

so sorry is the soul with a past
and with a conceited heart
that has had a murmur from birth
is it or is it not my fault, my heart
does not complete a beat?

from my coldness
who gets cheated of kindness?
is it me or is it you?
maybe with my half heart beats and short steps
in double time i will be less cruel?

seeing the flicker  of my shadow on the door
i realize i have come home again
from inside my own house,
it is always the longest way to
circumvent ones own heart

and the path to ones soul
is even harder to find
but you can only get to mine
from the back fire escape by the door
you always pass on the way
to the bathroom

Momad

the electric sound of life, of productivity
the controversy of not being much of a being,
the simplification of sorting brain waves
into something more manageable

searching for a quiet spot in the most unpopular way
the reduction of existence from the so-called
thought of inclusion
a simple want,a simple thought
that is all the same when left alone

the rhythm of a life left to its own explanations
nothing ever changes, just becomes hidden until one day it is
looked at again...

the same circumstances, the same eyes seeing
what they once saw,the same in repetition
and addition about the more of
what one is,
what one was,
and what one is
becoming....