(The Winding Way)
part one of two
part two of two
some paths are embued in the sweet fragance of Life’s vigour
others seem to be misconstructions
from the kidnapped souls of bartered inexistence
(is an involuntary witness)
– as one stretches beyond elastic limits (. )
( , )
– life, lost over anguish, hunger, dillusion (as)
– time (, )
traveled by an electric array of fractal movement through space (, )
helplessly implodes into reality.
What of it?
To lose so much pain on the misery of others
to barely breathe
through Futility’s nostrils
in tiny fotons of gasps
from the alleged angel of light
Why doesn’t the certainty of an ardently awaiting crowd of maggots
in that proverbial hole in the ground bring forth a will:
– for perception?
– to fathom?
– to be?
How many faraos?
How many does it take to see:
– a box full of void?
or its decoy?
Under what firmament will –
How long before –
the lifeless celuloide of a thousand broken dreams
for the gain of a mindless mimick of Man
mirror(s) the decay?
What profit is there (?)
– to happily wallow in the shame of an inane existance (?)
tightly wound, speeding swiftly and directly into a luke cold state of nothing (?)
(to be dust under the feet of strangers… )
I may be gone for a while thus I wish to leave something that always puts smiles all over my insides.
Wishing all a happy remainder of summer.
PART ONE of four
PART TWO of four
PART THREE of four
PART FOUR of four
Laying beneath the earth in wait of ships returnéd brimming in false promise, they ask after Pelagarus and the maids. Informed that they’ve apparently gone for a needed rest an odd semblance of hollow void comes over the expression of memories.. (but)
the Erinyes are known for their persistance and Time is no friend to Injustice.
Straight away, go right ahead,
– feel free..
Who needs these?
If I’m not using them why not hang them up and let them dry?
(Cry? …? )
by all means!
Impale.., stake everything,
anything that moves..
There’s an Aquilles of various sorts in everyone.
Who needs ankles?
Paris is mine regardless
The only reason “Any” can be envisaged is so “All” can be nailed.
(They’re almost twins. One must always be attentive..)
Walls and walls and walls and walls,
Walls of tantalizing feet
Oh! You weren’t talking to me..
I’m just pacing my surrender
at the feet of “No Mercy ”
(the sacred cow now all seem to eat)
The solitude of such a deed is a three way street trodden by Million.
An almost sacred trinity within the triplex of a Dantean cycle.
I’ll go fetch my sneakers..
(Below: feet detail taken from a work by Andrea Mantegna, b. circa 1431 – September 13, 1506 ** “The Lamentation ..” painted c. 1480, Tempera on canvas, 68 cm x 81 cm)