The scorn of the folornThe Scorn for the the folorn has reached the breaking point not my singing for my sleep or diversions can see the flower upright and in bloom only feeding it truth and a love serene can make it seem right the dream of valleys can't beat the depth of your fleeting glimpse, yet my far off stare and doubts irrupts your scorn for the folorn,The scorn of the folorn
chaos and the rose drying so evidently seeking the earth is all the evidence i need for my heart to know the folorn simplicity i strive but complexity i seek, mystic lines have forgotten the short of the blossom and shielded me in cages of doubt &nb
Why am i so Wise? Flies?Why am i so wise? It is because i eat pies But he does not just eat pies He would gladly swat flies near his pies And then laugh about the obsurditity of pies and fliesWhy am i so Wise? Flies?
Why am i so wise? Because he eats pies And chomps with purpose After a fly lands in his pie he strikes!
Why am i so wise? No mercy for that was not a virtuous fly who landed on his pie but still he does not judge that fly which landed upon his pie
Why am i so wise? It's a fine balancing act when it comes to flies and pies maybe he contridicts and blu
FlumeFlumeFlume
after the flippant actions of broken men, the fears of something far beyond what you can comprehend, floudering in the woods, scrimping scraping, hoping the fears will end with death of another,
As you forget all hope, left wanton and begging in the chaos, nowhere left to go but into the woods, Out there you dream of a chance to return to others hell,
As your fears grow so does your desparation, shying away, living on scraps, hoping, floundering out in the woods,
chance meeting, shock, still the fears remain, wanting to
Relics Are LameRelics are lameRelics Are Lame
my thoughts are with those in need, but i can't seem to help, is it because i need too much myself? then where do my thoughts go, escaping, locked in, escaping, locked in, escaping, locked in, fragile fragile, nobody wants to hear this relics views, fear fear, relics are lame, questions questions, uses uses, relics are stupid, stupid stupid, art and reality are for those who are fresh, relics are in the mercy of now
summer children, we were'ii.summer children, we were'
we carved animals
from ivory castles floating in the sun. we were
the doting spring mayflies
twisting upon meadows,
wreathing lilies between
toes, breathing --
iii.
between the sheets
of golden chaff, she whispered, “let’s dance in the rain
&
--
~Club(s)~
=Apophysis
--------------------------------------
~Fun~
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