I lost my persona
What am I without this
Nameless
without selfhood
Stripped of everything
What am I indeed
What role in the endless
Which direction?
What hole do I fill In the evergrowing castle
What form will I take during this infinity
Will I leave any mark that tide or storm will not erase
Will my existence be overlooked?
I scream out to hear my own voice
Not even an echo comes back
Is that me? A lost utterance
So be it
It glides toward the city
Panels vibrating
Smashing cloud
Sun yet to rise
Filled with fire
vapor of death
Fuel pumps through
The missile boosts
The city comes into sight
Guided Missile is blind
Gone when it engineers death
Gone before it's own devastation
There will be a hole where the city is
Missile glides steadily toward it's center
The sun is rising
The nose touches down
Like a sperm to the egg
Roaring finally like an orgasm
Explosion enveloping city
Hitting the spot
An antogonist to life
savagely imitating it's mode
To take away that which could be
In flames and excuses
I find comfort in you storm
Above is your violence
Your shriek your language
Sky darkens and I ease into it
Flood the lowlands
Simple seer says
Purging the world of the unready
Merciless and fierce
Shake us with the force of your wind
Beat us with your hail
Therefore it is
Therefore I am
Bring it alive in violence
Lightening hitting the tall and proud
Cutting them down early in reminder
No shelter is safe
In the glow of storm lightening
Father destruction moves
Mother water rains
All to be renewed
(Eitr tegn)
Used to dance around the subject
I'll never buy into the project
My ambition is glorious truth
cumbersome melody unsmooth
In a choreographed world written
With sweet quill of perjury
You learned how to coax
step, plant ruse and hoax
They all used to dance around it
Omission in groovey tunes
Unknown to rhythms I fit
My truth ugly and inopportune
I keep pace with it, ills i admit
No matter where candor of sun is
Vexing to the world blunt and ruthless
It's all about our hands, eyes and personal truth
let me worship just like a knife
I am the child, just a layman of life
Cumbersome and inadequate
Judge me completely
Refuse me this is a compliment
My sacred overwhelming testament
I thank God for this disfellowship
Praise God for I don't fit
I can't dance around the truth
But you may catch me pretending
just for variety it's a child's way
To free me from omission's sway
I am deeply troubled
I love myself for this
Pushing against life
Reacting on a rumour
Obsessing about baseless musings
Nothing to possess
nothing to embrace
The beauty of the day only
Joking with me
About how seriously I took it all
Bursts of rolling laughter
Each burst an unfinished life
hundreds of them
Each one a window sill
I sit next to every single one
As I look at the world
Each forgotten fragment
A code of the energy I am
I am deeply troubled
nearing neurotic
God thankyou for this state
This boiling puddle I am
The traversing current
This total lack I am blessed to be
That era slipped by
Forever to be misconstrued
In the minds of the youth
Nostalgia of the old
Just as false
Never depicting those gone times
Romanticizing it all
portraying something that didn't happen
Adorning the story
Elaborating the good times
excluding the bad ones
spreading sentimentality
If you weren't wistful yet
Declaring things weren't as they were
A sip of righteousness
A toke on that retrospection
Zonked out on those illusions
things we wish were true
Like a bible passage
A preacher's zeal
A " today's youth wouldn't understand"
Coming out of the mouth of elderly spectators
Who watch the sun set from house front benches
sharing juice, tattle and hearsay with neighbors
Either side of me
what level are we on now
our decisions open the heavens
And close them in an instant
On the whim of a human host
Pretending to be the almighty
Gesture and tone hit one
he is complete
His flock well molded
Their habits unchanged
their convictions
are broken closets
They struggle to get clothes out of
keep their written scrolls of shame
some poke out
wanting to be read
force of denial either side of me
these people want the wormless peach
Not bothering to mind the tree
But their lovely words appeal
Their confabulatons and theories
finding no tangible place in reality
just soothing their stinging afflicted consciences
negligent minds, for stupidity is not faith
Sapientia est Deus
