Words: Poetry

So this is the mantra of life,
the in-out-in of realization,
the holding of a breath
for an eternity
waiting for change to occur

And how we've stood here
with our hands shoved in our pockets,
ears deaf to everything around us,
waiting, just waiting,
for that spark that will take
us into the arms of transcendence

How the wind has taunted us,
whispering of things to come
that never happen,
strangers met that fade into the distance,
their landscape never quite meshing

How the sky has warned
half a dozen times of a multitude of calamities
that have never come to pass
except in nightscapes of horror
unveiled during sleeping hours
that leave one screaming upon wakefulness

How the stars have shone the passageway
into the land of Eris,
where she dances there with reckless abandon,
her mouth a black slash of death
and her movements slinking like
some mummified insanity

And in the end,
we're back here shuffling on the subway,
moving to the endless cadence of Nine Days,
avoiding the eyes of the man
who keeps staring at you

As if you're someone he can't quite remember
but is too damn shy to approach
(you're just a half-recognized memory)

It's all words,
utterances half-remembered,
terrors lived within the mind,
dreams eviscerated and dismembered
from the solitary corpse of time

This life is like that fantastic day
we sat out on the beach,
yet there was that ugly bug the color of dung
just kept flocking to our blanket
as if it wished to nest there with us all

That bug clashed with all the beauty,
its eyes and antenna quivered with doubt
that underneath all the sand is something
dark and dreadful that we'd rather live without

It's all words, you see,
just words that dance upon the air
They'll lull you into a stupor
then they'll slap and pull your hair

It's all words,
even if they don't rhyme,
they are a mystery even in dream
And the best thinker in the world
ain't worth a dime
if they can't decipher what they mean...

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