An intent, or an interdiction, on you, about you
to confound you, astound you;
Make purple your hearts
for industrially challenged heretofore
like past time predilections for your
basement or toxic garden.
In lawn chairs I find a lot of time
to lay about and figure out
what I am talking about.
Make movements on your best intentions, yeah!
And bowl over like a thimbles in a garbage can, yeah!
I’ll make pretty sure that there is no excess for the habitually challenged
habit forming, yeah!
There isn’t anything stoping anyone
from getting off this train;
And I love each and everyone one of you;
Moaning like orcas in Japanese waters;
So fresh and salty
like blood should be;
We are bleeding you motherfuckers!
There is no face behind the curtain.
There is no circle in the sky.
No matter what you think the circle looks like;
It is only the curtain you call
magic(or an iphone).
We all have the magic ability to do that.
And it’s great!
But the power of disillusion
gets only some of the same declension:
Whatever magic you make that to be:
and its take all kinds:
rabbits in hats
and rabbits’ feet
and skin of peasants,
worn to blood,
for you to purchase,
whatever it is that you purchase;
and live with that;
like witches and monkeys and red shoes and shit.
Fuck all you!
Because fucking you is all you do
and fetishments of people in tents
and red sky that never laments that people die
is a reality
and to not know that
to live in Kansas.
There are entrapments made by people
to keep their own sense of entrapment,
All entangled and confiscated
for the sense that time fulfills
only so much;
but that is so much
Time fulfills everything
that could be and what should be
done is nothing.
Nothing other than that what you are doing;
as long as it feels all right.
If you haven’t figured out by now
that your priorities are
Then you might wish to reconsider;
all of you
have taken excess to quantities,
reserved for kings and queens;
and your castle
or house on a hill
was built not to withstand
the hand of man
or the ravages of time
but rather was built
for momentary comfort.
There are, however, times when
the encapsulation of whatever that is made
to keep themselves in place,
is made not so much to feel all right,
but to ensure that no one gets hurt;
but everybody gets hurt.
There is no denying this.
And in that sense, entrapment
is an encouragement for denying
So you may keep whatever it is
you wish to keep
inside the plastic dish.
inside and outside,
every feeling you have,
is something that can never change.
(whatever channel(or site) you are on).
That wall to be walked in,
on, over, under, or in between
is a line that snaps back
into, well, line;
for the ellipse that has you held
under gravity is not a line
It is merely a cycle that has teeth
and bears responsibility
with a sharp clasp.
And to entrap an ending
to what, I, here, have done,
is the same exact thing.
I would discourage in others;
for all I have done is deny
the inevitable entrapment
of meaning inside a line.
All there is, is time.
When you deal in intent
and not meaning
you have no meaning
you are trying to say.
It is(is it) in your head anyway!
And until you get out of your head,
and on paper, or wax, or linoleum,
then carpe diem
doesn’t mean anything
for your intent to seize today
it just a yield for tomorrow,
and the past’s incessant sorrow…