cows cross rivers in dusty twilight
the skies are, no, the skies were,
a bit like horny princesses who stay in lonely towers in faraway tales
a lost traveler might catch an occasional glimpse or two of her
and a lost river might know that she yearns for lost love and blah.
dirty fishes and dirty folks play in edge of mind's cliff
one push, and the fun begins and ends
and the carnival begins and ends
bells ring in temple of heart
slaughter and mania in heart of temple
echoes, unbearable, break bleak, blind shores,
mountains rumble beyond badlands within and without
i see you seeing canopies dangling in cold mist
your eyes are, no, your eyes were
a bit like truth, enveloped in the travesty of being
we wait, for shadows to sink
one day our happy tramcar will arrive
and take us gliding through our Arabian Nights dreams,
for sure.
until then, weep, Fergus,
over love's bitter mystery
for they've taken your brazen cars away
and they've poured petrol all over their smooth bodies
and they've made them whirl around the flames of
all general desiderata and desolation -
all yours,
all mine,
stuff that burn clouds red across the weary skies
when the sun dunks down on sad people
and the moon shines blue on lonely people
and it rains all the time on sad and lonely people
except when they fade away. nothing happens then.
meanwhile, observe the phantoms as they lead the charge
beware their fusillade of all matters of fact and facts of matter
they're hardcore. fucking hardcore.
thus, play in silence, heart
for flowers wilt and stars burn out
blue buses stand empty on pale autumn evenings
it had rained a while back
dog bends back to lick ticks off its back
dog isn't sad
it's just that it has an itchy ass.
and there's a pen-stand beside the window
in it there's a blue pen and there's a green pen
and there's a pen without any refill
and there's a six inch ruler too,
a spider-web joins the tip of the pen without any refill with one of the window-panes
but it's okay.
what matters is that trees have life
and dogs and fishes and spiders and humans have life
and buses and trams and trains and pyramids don't
everything else
is bullshit.
1 comment:
I have seen "blue buses" standing "empty on pale autumn evenings". They looked sad and lonely.
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