In the Presence of Nobody
great things forgotten
sacrificed to the attic of time,
inventions rusted into an obsolete...
good deeds with time, dullen, turn mad
on the canvas of the modern eye...
brittle flowers in a cracked vase
monet into dali
life's burr turns upon itself...bleed...outcaste...
when eating becomes meaningless exhibition
we need
for somebody to look us in the eye and say
that wasn't so great-been done before...
show me something with sparkling honesty
give it to me from the heart of the heart
just the sponge cake-no strawberries and cream
not so great things are forgotten
tossed into the attic
to mingle with great things forgotten
in the attic of time and truth....
{time always tells the truth}
to spawn mediocrity in the presence of nobody
where eating becomes spectacular again!
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2012
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