Manuel Typewriter
New horizon never done this before
new landscape
running out of time running out of space out of ink
the only reminder of this reality
pack it up, the thwack thwack of this machine is pulsing
a mind of its own
mechanical brain
mechanical body
keys striking like a viper against the page
a row of steel teeth lashing out against imagination
a row of Buddhist Monks
a row of Muslims
all bowing towards this essence of creation
going in and out of this world
riding the wave of unseen spring time rain
spring time water gushing forth
shared by all
territory mused by all
drink from this chalice, this jug my friends
come join us in this moment
this beautiful sunrise
even the sunset is nice
as the moon waxes
pours out like the candle stick
melting and running down too the floor of the psyche
recall this moment when the light dimmed
shadows all staring in calm desperation
waiting for the sun to rise again
gripping my cold embrace
we hugged
kissed
cried
as the animals howled
and so did we
our perfect random chaos
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2009
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