Decoded like a file-Yet still Unclassified
A group tried to scan your soul like a
Barcode file,
Pondering they had access, thought they
Had style-
But one's truth ain't a doc you compile,
You remain encrypted, laughing all the
While.
Betrayal tried to breach you, sneak in,
Eavesdropping, but resilence hit back a
System icon.
You reboot clean, move sharp, stay gone,
Too many layers for for their read only con.
They wanted cliff notes, cheat codes, a
Quick profile, But you're firewalled spirit-
With a street- born smile.
Your whole lifestyle,
Rising every-time like a comeback file.
came from the door
and it's creeping up here
now it passes between my bare feet
lift the head and look at me
the small and sad eyes
of those who feel despised
the oblong and scaly body
of unclassified creatures
I gently push with my foot
goes towards the wall
return
lean on me again
I don't have the heat these things need
there's a rest of the sun outside
so I extend my hand
I take it carefully
time to walk the soul
Unsure are the pointless unions of
western civilizations, as we once thought
captured minds of uncertain cultures
of wisdom, unclassified views, of
true understanding, a constant flow
of information, not clarified with
enough knowledge and outlook to
have proof of creation, life forms of
our generation, and forward, into other
civilizations not yet found, to clarify
birth of humanity.
Constant searching, progress grows
with different cultures, not yet known
in our time of generations, may be altered
from another civilization, conquered,
before life submerged, into forms
of beings and other specimens, not
found for enlightenment of new
researching into the unknown universe
of knowledge and space.
Where as we notice, that we can not begin
to clarify where we came from, or where
hence, we shall go once life continues on
in a second of our universal plan, a line not
known to our intensity and anticipation, unable
to take concept of knowledge that is taking place
before our very existence.
By Derena
© 2018 Derena (All rights reserved)
Typographical phonetics
Minimalist squirt dialogue
Engrossment through corn similar
Unclassified period
Gargling contextual extent
Rapture on the blank
Antagonic concept verbalized
Top Hat
Capital sunset in climb
Plus digitalized volume
Black hole polar mark
Snail-rail gravitation
Reach the over-somandric
Unprinted root stripe
Communication on exponents
Unguided tone folding
Neurotransmission lost
we become fugitives in our
own outlets when the law
has put us to shame and
unnecessary blame
we violenly revolt like refractory
horses,its such a cruel shame
who the runnaways are,elegory
like shakeshere in that windy tempest
himself,than miranda,the category
of africas aggrevation is unclassified
Somebody’s Baby, lie still
Embalmed in pure white cotton,
Cocooned securely, like the babe in arms
within the shroud.
Seraphim cavort no more upon a form
once touched with shades of youthful innocence.
Somebody’s Baby, be sure.
Your time for dreams now spent,
No future beckons only time captured frame by frame,
Frozen in vulgar technicolor;
Close Up; Explicit, depicting genre yet unclassified;
The epic over exposed.
Somebody's Baby, be silent.
Grey and gnarled imposter in the cot
Metamorphosis contrives a landscape dry and gnarled.
No more seductress of tender ministry;
Solitary, silently; endures the travesty
Of human demise.
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