throwing fowl balls haphazardly while six juncos sighed lined in purple
_______________________later said it was time to go
before hell became unchained
and tripped over principles
i spoke without hearing
and landed a notice of rebuke
without giving doubt a try
was becoming going down
along with those two lips
nesting on the penguins..?
delirium handed out free
to all takers on a spree
theft of the highest degree
what the. it should... really
"buttress yr self lefty!" shh...
whispers behind explosions
and some daze some days
(they're) not like tomorrows
but guides to the beginning
the incessant frolicking ends
as the brightly lit sun stuttered
and moaned over the moon light
“no brilliance here!” matey...
the cobbed voice snickered
when the pastel winds blew
she knew life was threatened
when her dreams showed signs
of rust along the edges of her eyes
castaways they swayed before one
the wreaking knowledge of destiny
torn from the torn pages of irony
and the zone… that wicked zone
the one dressed in midnight apparel
hastily made shade dispel by thirds
why must the cornubia be retaught
again and again and yet again
while the planets continue their dance
the late night orchestra playing
the cycle of life found here, right here
where proof is in the tombstones
they can be found scattered throughout
memories engraved for the graves
in languages devised by the restless minds
those weary and restless minds of ours
haunted and repelled by the silence
that holds the truth of our obscurities
may tomorrow lay rest amongst the reeds
along the slow moving, life-giving waters
“hooray! hooray!” they whispered aloud…
heading to their lowest spot only to be
lifted high into the masters of flotation
to be scattered like seed across the land.
__________
Cecil B. Lee
[concluded 1.15.2018]
