ένας
If I lent you my time you'd run away with it,
After a spoon on a comet's tail dancing with Plato
Enkindled in a cinder of days ending,
In a blaze of glory and solitude under a falsity.
Breaking and absorbing the nightly sky
I fly with enchanted lullabies,
Through a passage of chilled wine glass
Broken under a chandelier's clarity
of Days past.
A cobblestone road speaks softly ahead
Of adultery and lovers toxic with lead
Memories of few and thoughtless arrangements
Made while time slipped by under an
Oiled derangement
Once a spoon on a comet's tail danced with Plato
And lit up the day as it ended in Spring
In a blaze of glory and solitude under a falsity.
δύο
I scream
"My time, my time
Under a promise in the blinds!"
Iris in a castle burning
Absorbed by shaded tears
Spinal fluid drains across a grated floor
As the rats feast on scattered scraps.
Files cross barred windows under a blank darkness
As night sets from day in a game of chess
"My time, my time
Under desires in a coffee-table book,
Scream of scaldings from watchers that light up the sky!"
Pupils dialate from raindrop kisses
And lightning massages of a scrubboard
A face stares toward a sky of windless chimes
Clanging in a faceless wind
Moon's fascade fastens bandages to wounded kin
Stuck in a time of fiefs and bullet trains
And this during a period of unrest
between the dish and the spoon
τρία
Nebulated nocturnal transmission
Through a tubular circumvulated system
Of lifesupport and artificial intelligence
Disintegrated into fermented lozenges
Digested and absorbed by encephalons
Somnolently going about everyday life.
τέσσερα
A wise voice once said,
"If you build it,
They will come."
A wise voice one brought about a revolution
Revolutionaries carried plastic through metallic gates
leading straight to hell
Driving chariots of aluminum, caging the younger
born as warriors
Servants cling to the stronger of mates:
Support equals comfort on nightly romps through the bay.
A wise voice stays quiet.
Copyright 2004 Corey Sanderson (VvTracervV)
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