He took a whiff...
Though he promised never again;
For he knew,
Even if he was set on the brink of a cliff-
He'd still fall time and again.
He stood on the verge of internal collapse,
From the very thing he performed.
Yet unable to abandon the oddly normed,
Be it the rite of self delapse.
Is it sin to try and fail?
Or is it right to have tried-
but have it met failure?
For to have fought with no avail,
Or for it to simply become leisure?
"Certainly not", He thought,
For he had tried time and again
Though to see what became of it,
Certainly wasn't what he sought;
For his candle had been long lit,
And his slate of existence already been lain.
This is my continent, our complement
We are soil without component
This are our roots, a superstition
And sky blue cinematic religion
I am you and you are me
So we are his only being
We are him, him Africa
The father of black sleep, a flicker
This is my stay, our state
The fruits of our plate
On his table we assemble
Forever stoned kings of our resemble
We are never our have
But our within, a sacred grave
Of a puritan hidden in our language
For scars normed without a bandage.
She drops from the sky when the right clouds are formed.
There is no announcement, not a sound of an angel’s horn.
She arrives with her snow bear, he is Artic normed.
They are fresh every time, both newly born.
We know she comes on days of the Northern lights.
She comes in the night, but we do not see her until day.
When she arrives, Iceland’s nature turns up her brights.
We rarely see her in our life time, so enjoy her okay?
Testing testing testing
Ten days of testing.
These aren't even nationally normed tests!
They are state tests!
What a horrible ending for our students
They will not want to return
After Memorial Day weekend
Or After the summer break
or maybe ever again...
Will their parents force them to come back
after this four-day weekend
For testing testing testing testing testing testing?
I wouldn’t.
Laughing, and preening memory for joy
The album's heart is open to our rusty gaze
Upon who were and are not now again.
Time has taken the sheen from our eyes
The mischief from our face, so we are normed
Into risk averse joy grabbers of memory.
Your album is a stage
For old performances, and chance encounters
A map for journeys on roads not taken then
That was the end that began a cycle painful now.
I see the best of me in the worst of times
And now have the worst of me in the best of times
And you celebrate this?
Beauty is not beauty if it changes, for beauty
Is not thing but the quality where joy ranges.
This thing we are is not what we have been
For we are aged not like wine
But old as fashion we pine
To be worn by rainbows again. The camera
Imprisoned something after the rain
The boy in the water, liberty frolicking
The sun confessing your loveliness
Between the blanket of a wrinkled sea.
Close it now, my dear
I need to say farewell to me.
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