So you think it doesn’t matter anymore
but the thieves are encroaching on your wheat fields
robbing the cradle as it rocks lucidly
Thus samsara is ennui
as the tide covers you like a snug blanket
we are fixated on a certain niche in time
a balloon thought exploding, rubbery confetti sprinkled on the ground
I’ve been trying to harness my thoughts for reality
But they continue recycling the airport baggage claim
anchored to the synapse nodes
Is time continuing?
because my sundial rested beside a fountain at noon
when cumulonimbus clouds eclipsed
time’s become a relatively cumbersome fairy tale
as the shadow rears overhead, foreboding doom
arduous routine, soul crippling
the inner self sealed by hundreds of locks
I’m a vagabond specter, an apparition now apparent
blame post-modernity, such uncertainty
wicked black suit men in cahoots, poison to the roots
they bury your plans, they squash your creativity
they tie you down with ropes of snakes
a remembered unforgivable past springing into the present, reflecting off our flooded waste strewn streets
will they remember me? the time we spent together?
do we give more gifts wrapped in ribbon than receive?
My friend fears the future for what it holds
I just hope I can hold anything at all
without it slipping away, because death comes in unannounced
it’s the great equalizer, when we’ve become fertilizer
In life:
wealth knocked at my door to sell me a guided, posh, three step method
beauty tried to flatten my wrinkles, give me implants
power tried to carve me a podium in the spotlight
and pleasure tried to seduce me with sugar coated, melting in-your-mouth, juices flowing down your face
The future is a cup with death carbonizing the contents
except for You
Contemplative Writing 