by Ian G Graham…
Do the horns of time,
sound for us –
in sallow metered rhyme?
Or frown upon our bended frame –
a marked receding lame?
Or locate meaning in a self-imposed vacuum –
truth weighed on melting castles –
where petty claimants swim and strangle reality in existential soup.
I cry tears that matter…
An illusion in a liquid dream,
Plato’s cat builds castles in her sandpit,
matchsticks rain down to strike a revolution,
Default Freedom…
Failing progressiveness of everything…
aggressive-opportunity-towards-uncertainty.
Is cosmology circus tricks and acts?
A cold stirring of skeletal uprisings in protest about death?
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Wow, I must admit that the post just after this one I didn’t understand a thing but this one is so deep.
Hey, nice to stumble on awesome poets, I’m Idealize from Idealizeblog and you just liked s post and decided to follow me so I greatly appreciate it and thank you. Hope to see you around often and I think I will stick around.
Please have a great week, take good care of yourself and good luck with everything.
Chaio
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Idealize: I look forward to seeing more of your posts.
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Thank you so much 😀
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Reblogged this on inner-realizations-blog.
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