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Hexon.Arq
10-29-2010, 11:45 PM
Some results of not so much being up to no good as of not being up to any good. Part I:


Death of the Poem
----------------------------
A lack of love won't kill a form before it ceases being born,
But frail efforts such as mine will make short work of it in time.
Certainly I can see the reasons why it seems the art is slowly
Dying, what with my own eyes denying time for all but mine.
Even the floor fares more from me than any line of poetry;
Flow each into a wordy brine that loses me eventually.
Grasping at meanings is the game when I invite myself to play,
However after several tries I'm liable to sympathize
Increasingly with those who dare not dabble in the whole affair.
Just let my time in prose be spent--where things are said as they are meant.


Priorities
----------------------------
I have priorities, I do, that start with "I" and end with "U".
If I've said something on the Internet then rest assured, it's true.
I am the watcher of the war that no one covers or remembers,
And I carry on as best I can to keep you on your toes.
If tomorrow has a fool then I am it and it is winning,
But a fool is not a fool if being a fool is what it's chosen.
You can bitch a moan to me and bitch is what you can expect,
For there's no grace I have to offer you nor love I aim to get.
But if you have toured the heavens and a great adventure had,
And collected wonders in your soul your good senses forbad;
If you've custody of darkness and dominion over time,
Then it's possible I am your ghost but likely you are mine.


Aftermath
----------------------------
Yo tengo dos esposas, pero both of them are roaches
But I love them 'cause they know just how to live with what I think.
They don't ask me no preguntas, 'cause they know it would be too much
To expect a hint of trueness in the answers they'd receive.
While I never say a word about the dreams that I've deferred and
Mis esposas both have learned well that to wander there is death,
I maintain a false composure as I crawl among the roaches
In the wake of my explosion, waiting to begin again.


Stalling
----------------------------
I'm randomly posting a few lines of rhyme
Just to fill up a minute depleted of energy
Needed to make any use of my time
By completing the tasks that are all piled next to me
Suffering painlessly, waiting for anything
Stalling and sitting, an interest befitting the
King of all things we would have one another
Discard in a moment to slow our becoming
Alarmed at the sound of our destinies rotting
Away into dust as these pleasures keep us from
Complaining too loudly that everything must be
Completed and timely lest we be defeated again


Let It Seethe
---------------------------
Let it seethe, let it sizzle
By our hands are we made dead
Flood the world with just a drizzle--
There's no time to clear our heads

Never pressing any questions
That might otherwise impede
Our honed ability to carry on
And nurture our disease
We run simply to be moved--
The points, of little consequence
Watch now this dusty ring of ruin
Spin itself with our footsteps

Let it burn, let it boil
Keep the dragon on its knees
Let us drink her tears of fire
And be bitten by her fleas