Bags of Leftovers
Things happen. Life unravels
The earth spins, perpetuating processes
And as we recount our travels
Our hearers marvel
Stories of prophets' heads on silver platters
Representations of old things
And we should be somehow flattered
By images of our saggy bottoms and flaked skin
All the expected supreme annoyances
In bags of leftover promises
Encased in increasingly cryptic codices
We're patching up until the expert arrives
I look forward to an immense surprise
For now, we can all be Lazarus
Sitting at the gate, all cadaverous
Hold my wings while I fly
I don't want to fly too low or rise too high
We are all Lazarus, waiting to exhale
Picking up crumbs, pushing carts
Domesticating stray dogs. Swatting flies
In alleys and under bridges. What a sight
It's like writing a hard exam
Roger, confirm your position
I'm flying over the flyover, over
Ah, Roger
Things happen. Life unravels
Things fall apart
Unexpected turns, astonishing events
Surprises and disappointments
Spilled milk, blood, sweat and tears
Broken hearts and shakedowns
Past failures and future fears
Betrayals, travesties
Misplaced loyalties. Broken trust
Uncollected royalties
Missed opportunities, misplaced sympathies
Mishandled moments. Misplaced comments
Unforeseen challenges. Broken sewers
Outbreaks and breakouts
Roger confirm
You are observing this insanity
I'm flying over the fly over, over
Ah, Roger
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2017
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