Distant hop got gun shot

January 13, 2009
By adora lee, Lebanon, NH

Here is the universe."
I speak of it in rough drafts...

'mad dashing by past the luxury of associating to greet smiles, oh so impolite to docile atrocity!

Fathomable with kaleidoscope binoculars
prophetic, mythical
unpolitical ends returning to beginnings

An impersonal narrative;
like a mirage off 'escapism'.

:I was awoken (under the crustal zone from the atmosphere), tidal waving of asteroids.

I salute them.

Pages of alternating worms booking my veins and ailments as thus resulting in dances, frolicking spasms to eternal remain. Like a virus only to accumulate.

The colors of steps both side taken and dived into
to play chess,

the buried ancestors pushing up labyrinths of daises

more then to no less amaze, traditions of honor and praise.

The energy of lessons like welts left not to forget
gain in loss
the naivety of regret
the barbarism of intellect
the childishness of symbolism
the feyfolk towns village tales of cannibalism
the farity of style
the infamy of pious destiny

the subtly of recognition
the ages of procrastination
The cycles of depression
the indigestion of reality
cause and effect...
pseudo reality televising fantasy

{Zen is not the contentment of education learnt}

discipline to simply be represent in breathe,
imprisoned in a class of stale air

Spawned in a womb of infertile substation
move on
feed into faith of self to
thrive liveliness in hollow grounds

after unscarce meditating on sacred misadventure
where those who've died congregate
intents of us stage ode of humanity's spirit
the artistry of experience available

Isn't it half hearted, half warm
this Schizophrenic tongue of me Astronomist song
impartial indifference, enthralled bewilderment
over thought insanities, not philosophy
Young, genious does not become me

Here is the Universe
pushing and pulling
poles of magnetic interfering
chemistries of fear and excitement

there is the unknown
It is here
morphing time

revolutions beyond eyes
priorities like witch hunts chasing after the Antichrist

Literally articulating a nonverbal communication of
soulistic roles is the objective. So open to interpretation, in the end intimate with that moment of place and time; c'est la vie...the meaning cared to acquire. A mere dreamed remembered.

The author's comments:
Alibra curtsies to corruption

I can’t paint on a strong face when I’m scared.
And that’s just what I am…
It’s a psychedelic psychology that I can still fear the touch of torture
While it rapes me in every back parlor corner
Chemistry can’t fathom the terrors that live on in me
With justice and punishments done,
The visions of unredeemable images aren’t forgotten.

Alibra curtsies to corruption and all she sees is master’s feet
Slaves sold, where, who knows?... Imprisoned in a future denied of hope
And criminal trafficking
Morals hacking away, victimized for pay
The cash raking in
Children touching men
Whose masseuse’s daddy?
G strings and abused smiles
For Sixty bucks and she can be worth your while
High healed prisoners
Watched by an army of surrounding camera recorders
Dance within this double locked fence
Reusable produce has no freedom
Machines denied of rest from the instilled pain buried in their breasts.

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