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Messages
"Messages"
Messages are delivered to us
in the strangest of places, we resist
like we are the longest hung revolution,
the biggest most viable important incarnation,
the loudest sonnet to acknowledge the uncanny
timeliness of the unreality of it all,
the removed mathematical equation,
where is the logic in prophecies
waiting for that Pale Rider
to real us into safe quarters
away from the proverbial Storm;
any day now, news will ignite
napalming our unaware safe walls,
walls hung with souls of value
screaming I’m too old for all this
writing and passing notes
back and forth in school;
to'wit, I’m more than likely, not 1
of the 144, I'm way too sullied,
yet I’ve got hellelujah tribulations galore
Candide Diderot. ‘24
signs/messages
Copyright ©
Candide Diderot
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