Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Window Moths

Moths come to my window to bounce and flutter
I want nothing that reminds me of pandemonium
Mimicry, is the echoed call, which distracts the future
I understand black and white; so let the colors run away
Never needed any brilliance to mark my path
Someplace in the folds of a jacket near a crumpled paper
Is quartz, which I will not find, until I am elsewhere

Monster at my Nape

Only in the gilded lands,
does sometimes the idiot become wise
Then decide,
that wisdom is too heavy,
and recede away with the waves
Only within a life of comfort,
can the fickle, wax and wane
The self-imposed hardship,
teaches nothing, but delusions
To those who play destitution
as some hobby,
dancing happily with poverty
While the rest of us sleep,
with it’s rotten breath on our nape
Simply twirling with terror,
does not mean you know its name
Or the scrape of its claws on your chest
As it embraces you