Sunday, November 30, 2014

the night train runs same as the day

...A selective navigation boiled...
steam wells bellied upon the ocean's floor
                   rusting there since a century ago    its

Social    lips moving  a familiar word displaced
In comma coated peacock feathers  
                         or perceive it so
               jutting                     dispense     sonic salivation
 for thoughts undecided   
                                       steam as it is   life should be managed 
    containing All  but one trait
         siding out side of the flocks clerical calender
                  rusting there since a century ago

Tide  lineal     a soul good enough to sink  deep      a breath...........

      palindrome post pence        in calicoptic serenade
sage sense
                    The kind that when telling a story cures in climax          wanting a smile in turn           
           steam     as it is life bellied upon the ocean's floor mined 
                              all but one trait

a term to clear for

or it could be a term for
          highways in congestion      steam wells bellied on the ocean's floor
rusting there since a century ago     

Thursday, November 20, 2014

random no. I

i've read the I is    at its best when not at all
between        sense and since   in discourse

       in real time       I bests      evil in gnosis
           the prime is hers          
I   define lines
  the sort of i that rhymes with the sort of line
              were the H is silent  
      a sort of I  between balloons collected in rows signifying seatings
                                     places  we are supposed to sit
      the sort of line that bests its simple                 and pours the difference
                  to small to see      
                               i guess because the looking would be weird
                         the line becoming silhouette  deciding that silhouette doesn't suite
personality together with conformitative vibes       name tags and everything
its in your herd      she said    or maybe in your head
          who's to say

i've been told that when the rasta sing the I                  they mean God
            the totalitarian fiend subdues the drug of Earth      
and the other    way      
                 who's to say
the weed grows vagrantly     without nurture  in nurture
           in condensation
           combined these are conventions of I      
a wedding of self and no-self     in measure         the I is at point
commanded in jest      
commended at best

            and yet when ran    continence of I  seem to fit delightful

when i can manage of corse
                     i've seen the I markets   heard my share that i

bought in and wagered the days earning     s
                          And   where is the difference
And what              
  i've seen the I     bought   bent and reconciled in highs of leisure
                               I can and will be sold

as it seems      the easiest of seams to mend