piece by danny baker- Cautious Wind Time Lapse Observation Of You Gotta Be Kidding Apparently Im once again out of things to say. Theres a boogeyman atop the roof seeming not to notice my presence so, so let it be is the current tactic. Starving for informative scuttlebutt or signs of life among demonstrative robotic interpretations. Snuggling next to the fire with ideas that wont make it past the drawing board. Reserving judgment for another unsympathetic day. Scar tissue is a keloid covering a calendar. Space and time continuum considering formal separation proceedings- at a minimum, bifurcation of assets which is liable to send the crystal ship to Poseidon for his royal whim. Straw dogs are regular topics due to a keen sense of the obvious. Numbers without names. Barcodes with no faces. Its strange to feel what cant be seen despite it being right in front of us. Apple pie is melting the ala mode and the pitcher throws his elbow to violent winds. Spellcheck is offing ala. Add one soft consonant and Ill be on the next plane to smoke a camel. Still struggling for things to say but picking up nonsensical steam. Listen to the whistle blow. Sway with uneven boxcars. A matter of time is relative to its interpretation so even five hours late could be a hundred years early if one were to think about it. Alas, it may just interrupt ether gaming or next segment of Al Jazeera, fact of which makes me sick or increases the intensity of what ails thereto, yet ensuing uproar is heard for miles. Either way color me un-blind cuz it just is. Im holding onto a bullet screaming downrange at this point. Lack of dialogue or topic for discussion no longer of issue, its stopping points missing the point though Im not listening. Sole survivor is guilt by association. Call to arms is stirring insurrection though I think I can settle that affliction with a couple sleeping pills. I stare at my finale with each mirrored glance- imagery too real for life too real for reconciliation with cause and effect dynamism too painfully manifest for Sundays sermon. Bow at the altar for god or his chosen emissary who seems more apt to have an opening on the calendar. Scrabbling at home team to catch a sniff of whats to come. Nothing ventured nothing gained. Looks like Ill be no better than even once the tally is complete and all mausoleum’s have had a chance to weigh in on my qualifications before rejecting me on oily religious grounds or the next marble arch. They could lie to us though. They could just lie. But why worry? Its only divine intervention were talking about. Its only miracles which never cast a ripple in the swimming hole when simple confirmation wouldve beat a dead mans hand. An Atheist keeping faithless even in a foxhole and living to tell about it while he walks across the gentle river talking to an ethereal voice with convincingly commanding demeanor.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Sep 2014 15:47:17 +0000
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