Our truest life is when we are in our dreams awake. - Henry D. Thoreau

Sunday, October 18, 2009

faith in frenemies


abolishing the means to reconcile
sticky gossip brew the infant mindset
another closet behind the threshold
hiding sets of keys jangling softly
swift winds wither meadows away
behind the hillside covered in brush
languid meter measures sour specimens
gyroscopic detailing for the weathermen
fashioning a cross for sore eyes
blistered by an unspeakable truth
they seize the seas and laugh merrily
forever lost by breadcrumbs heavenly
pushing forth a vacant cause
and a dutiful messenger filled with awe
wishing for anger behind imagined walls
proving nothing bitter stands tall
i consume my flesh to make ends meet
where you carry empty baskets above your feet
don't settle me down, i'm ready to fight
another shadow and a pilgrim with unease
plastering drapery across the barren fortress
hoping to hide behind your doorstep
and who is welcome but the death reaper
this population beckons a brave gatekeeper

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