Saturday, February 1, 2014

smiling nothing on purpose

the vail of Albion has been concurred      in late      Fall like curls
curling    dry as broadway         and twice as loud

Its measure        selling  cellophanic blisters   popping when their supposed to
popping    like freshmen cherries     popping smiles

                     (and a star explodes a billion light years

every time you care to look)

As socially determined               smiles go

                              smiling congressionally

 ad-hearing  to the highest bidder
smiling           Nothing        

          On Purpose

         smiling  dust mites    eating  black, tired irises
fostered in movement    

and the colors are like new

these boots where made for walking but you have to ask permission

and your        original                 likeness matched    anticipated/looked out for
                    your  edges bending in obedience                    

       widely acceptable with-in        pictures pending  
  a social joke   told time and time again

      an unseen voice    adhered to
like the voice of Our Mother            the Earth       only

the master has a clean wipe
and he cares not of You               and
                      the lamb IS laying down with a lion  

        who has learned how to nibble

                                                         instead of feasting
like a lover
      like the rainforest frog
like a tide         fucking the shoreline

milking sand     like scripture
milking time

 milking a time where the trees ask the leaves to bend
                             but this time the leafs don't deserve to know why

   and we are marked by what club       We       Belong to?

  marketed    then re-marketed         and the leafs      or the lambs             or the ledgers

      are coined lawless                 in percolation  
                        percolated       catalysts granting the sounds of wood and wind

sang purity        yet given into the plastic polar bear
     sown quietly

             like drive by movie makeout madness         settled

in motion picture sacrifice     in technicolor
written for          a lambs' masquerade

and the work is never done         the salt lick shrinking
in wind, in wont, in weaver and weave

                     because we are many
and we must Speak

we must Salivate
                             and not to the latest sunglassed sanctuary
but WE speak

                       like a mornings'        catered cafeteria
                  growing         without our ferried eyes

an  effortless dew

granting roots in spruce rooted villages   milking the grass

as It is       either green or gray  
           for there is no madness telling     a further madness       telling Not to wet
the land
that is not nature

that is not natural         and We should not do that

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