A caveman is a slave man to his physicality
He lacks the common courage of a kind philosophy
His calling isn’t running for a newfound sophistry
And yet he won’t be gunning for a new maturity
His progress is reflective in a procreative spree
A gene that is selective in the course of history
The purpose of our pleasure is a practicality
The promise of a treasure in our own posterity
The patience of persistence is our new proclivity
To plunder our existence for a primal urgency
The peace of our resistance is a tasteful harmony
The increase of insistence on our true nobility
Our notion of devotion is an oath of honesty
The bedrock of emotion for a new civility
The trouble with promotion is a lack of clarity
The rumble of commotion in a caveman family
The human is a calling to be all that you can be
The spirit of adventure with the pride of dignity
The path is no vocation to a man of charity
The humble invocation of a new trajectory.
A corona virus grows inside us and thoughts of reasons range,
Lack of clarity without solidarity and expecting things to change,
And as lockdowns loom on a global scale,
Can we ripen a world that’s stale.
A reflection is on the white board
It’s the shapes of the light fixtures above me
But wait? How does this work?!
Reflection and shadow try their best to replicate
Do they mourn their lack of clarity and unoriginality?
Representing your own doubts and questions
they’re quick and temporary
What’s going to happen next?
Red and white and short and fat
Filled with air and souls that stitch themselves to one another
And If it feels right
It isn’t the bodies that are wrapping themselves around eachother
You’re looking out for yourself
Is there a name for that?
In either case are you bound to death?
How is it decided which leaves of the summer tree grow first
Do they feel fear, watching their branch-mates brown and loose grip on what birthed them?
But it’s interesting that he sets up a kind of structure, and it’s an interesting structure
holding some writings near
the winds caress the evergreens (at least I can hear)
the war stories, oh my, oh my, oh dear
tangy peaches to eat
- then she sheds a tear
soul searching,
the lack of clarity - now clear
while
wearing
blankets
worn
by heroes
untold unsung
awe-inspired
severe.
Squirrel roadkill
flattened by unheeding wheels
No! He escaped!!
A note to readers: The squirrel escaped and wasn't flattened into roadkill. My apologies for my lack of clarity.
The feelings ineffable,
More due to the lack of clarity
Than to the intensity
The distinction very hazy,
infatuation or heavenly connection,
Nevertheless significant.
The tortuosity of life evident,
Also shine upon me the feeling of helplesness,
The inability to alter the course,
The incapacity to ascertain for myself.
Wuld have been better,
If I could recognize omens,
Sense the authencity of the connection,
And get atleast a measel of the whole meal.
Losing has never been a big deal,
But losing without even trying,
Making me an insomniac,
Making it difficult for me to live with myself.
Had life been so simpler,
Had I had the courage to take a bold step,
Would it be more satisfying?
Or would it get all the more worse?
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