Around The World In Eighty Days Crying Like A Fish

11 Jul

Knowledge, like money
Steals that which the flawless abide by
And starves them to emphasis,
Its basic need driving, bribing, grinding
Silly eccentrics sad to see you gladly
Won't let them share their sayings
We nonetheless buy we sell like accumulation seed.
What more need I confess?

Around the world in eighty days,
I can work on it. If I can get out of this old chair.
Like debutantes old balloons have burst,
Forcing hands of will to engrave my undeterminable echelon ways.
Everysuch is a motto of peace. In some circles we squared up.
There the martyrs burned their draft cards
In water. No one knows what the secret pays.
Fools of history wanting a chance,
The Homeland of Pretense
Crave.

Webless seamless rechanneled unmeasured below,
Uncorking chatter of a population too disturbed to wink
Storms the barnyard and construction site flattery, so
Tall engineers can plan tomorrow amplifying blank choices.
Riding elephant ears I sigh alone since I must,
In swank obedience to the laws of gratuitous dust.
Sucking silk and abstract noises, I too am frankly human,
As if any scientist or poet could ever pin us down.
Cross the bridge river over rigid, as you also must, but remember—
Don't let your beginnings
Rule out mine... you are in place
Only to count out measure.
I was assured of a minimum wage,
I took it, felt satisfied
Til another day came.

Around the world in eighty days,
I cannot always always it. 99.9% lure. The other mere lie.
(Still waiting for the mathematical cure...)
Westerly planks of a downtrodden brow
Blow Wednesday evenings weekly as the tulip race leaves,
And drunken sentences growing longer, stronger in darkness.
Sage ambition, curdled rage, the caged bellows remarked
Grocer the codes we are spinning by
In simple acts of cultural bias,
Love's attrition a latter day event.
"Actually, in spite of yesterday,
Tomorrow can behave like today,"
Says the bum in search of his opposing thumbs.
Fools of history wanting a chance,
The Homeland of Pretense
Brave.

Vows of virtues and safety,
You've seen my fragile ghost
Respect this place before, costing many
More hours hard labor, sensing the aftermath.
Time is clinging close to earth now, while
Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw,
Showing irate middle age nubiles and neanderthalistic laws
The difference between zero and nothing.

Around the world in eighty days
Crying like a fish,
The lazy page boy requires becoming
The prime novelist
Marching the streets
Someliness everywhere greets.
Life he kissed. And then sped off.
Fools of history wanting a chance,
The Homeland of Pretense
Gave.

[ 1982, Atlanta ]

© 1982 - 2013, Gabriel Thy. All rights reserved.

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S A M P L E X

"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""


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