Civil Savage
Born into a wilderness of sin.
Stressed not by derelicts.
Parapets.
Pharaoh's fits.
Brazen wits
or
Dirty hits.
Contemplating upon the cob of corn.
A colonel of Kernels
All reflections...
Eternal
both
Diurnal
and
Nocturnal.
"Am I...
parody?"
Answer:
"Perhaps, if you are not your own."
From imaginist to tempest
King to Pauper
One's own is not in perception of self, but action of being.
With every reflection there is an image, but only in mirrors
Born into a wilderness of sin.
Stressed not by derelicts.
Parapets.
Pharaoh's fits.
Brazen wits
or
Dirty hits.
Contemplating upon the cob of corn.
A colonel of Kernels
All reflections...
Eternal
both
Diurnal
and
Nocturnal.
"Am I...
parody?"
Answer:
"Perhaps, if you are not your own."
From imaginist to tempest
King to Pauper
One's own is not in perception of self, but action of being.
With every reflection there is an image, but only in mirrors
and broad hallucinations.
These machinations...
of mind, self and story.
Are the burdens of pride, strength and glory.
When staring deep into your computer screen.
Monitor what is monitored
and let the rest come clean
What is your jungle but a city street,
And endless plains, when walking the beat.
Path born, path trodden.
Civil is what you are,
but the savage is not forgotten.
