September 07, 2006


Random words
Alleged poetry about poetry
Thoughts give birth to more thought
Recycled for mass consumption
The wordsmith becomes voice of the masses
And his words are silenced
Consciousness is unconscious of self
Humanity's travails distract from true purpose

Please step aside for the hearse
It carries the body of a poet who died of hunger
Homelessness is the destination of the pure
They seem so sure

Keep it real
Stay true to self as long as we define that truth

I've stopped thinking about the meaning of life
It makes my head hurt
I've taken to eating dirt
Brings me close to my nature
We shall find a home in the soil one day
Even those who get burnt
Everything ends up dust
A smoother derivative of what we have created out of dirt

It's been said that sleep is the shadow of death
Let me succumb to the shadow's warm embrace

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