Sunday, September 12, 2010

Fissures



I wasn’t alone drifting my sight apart
You’d win nothing conquering my moves.
Would you fix a big head in a small box?
I doubt your common sense…
Would you push all the way my rocks?
I doubt it at any expense…
I am a falling tree
And,
I know you're unable to see
Behind me; a virgin forest
And lost cords of a guitarist...
I may get melted with clay
I may be part of an essay
And I still doubt your way
Of giving it away
'Coz you are crashing my breath
In this abandoned ashtray
I will handle you two options:
The first for adoption
And the second for a fake display
Listen;
Be part of my straight move
And let the bulk disapprove
But listen…

K-man
Misenheimer.NC

1 comment:

Meriem said...

nicely rythmic!...I feel I can intone it into a song.