This morning I was christened by snowflakes that flew
Crazed, across antipathy, shrieking and lewd
Towards a goal, painted yellow, yet never erected
I seek, but futile words are proving defective
In sleet and in worry, poured out and molded,
He beats like a drum, for his conduct is scolded
By internalized structure, borne of his mother
She subsists, yet he knows not one shoe from the other
In minuscule storeroom he hides his delight,
His source of consolation and unfounded fright
In the brawl for his freedom, he has forged cuffs anew
He is locked down and gawked at in his own zoo
To overlook solutions, that’s the heart of the beast
Tragic, but intentional- not in the least
Constructing towers of sand, just to be sure
But there is a delay; I’m caught in the lure
In genuine form, agents unearth the facts
A revelation on parchment and written in wax
Sedated, blood red, like flesh of a fruit
Dilated our eyes, bodies to follow suit
In infant glow, wavering beacon of light
You are coldly acknowledged in the heat of my fight
I am appreciative, and although you do wander,
Of such serpentine aura I shall grow fonder
These notes coil and scuttle, no matter the speed
Validation through words and her power to lead
I am ironing curtains, beginning to cry,
Learning to dispense with each reason and why
Tender the pads of long fingers on keys
Starting tomorrow, I’m bending my knees
1 April 2009
No comments:
Post a Comment