someday it all makes sense
The watchers watch, the dwellers dwell,
The talkers talk and the silencers quell.
Like gunfire across the ocean
We wait for the gentle slope
Of the trajectory to end
In drops and splashes.
Raining upon those looking
For enlightenment.
Everything tightens
The grips and the pulses.
Intermeshed with breath
Exhales ignite death.
Love erases everything.
Love cuts open old wounds.
Delight in sight of
Wanted answers
For you'll meet them
When you can't see them.
And then and then
And then you'll see.
When you can only tell
That you were looking
Some time ago
Without an idea of the vision.
It blinds you like a knife wound
Makes you lucid.
Cut deeper. Until and eventually
You find the root. The core,
Its not singular, not any more.
Multiplicity infinite.
A haiku for people that
Can't count. Or won't.
Let's examine the viral
Our exploded self in forms
Of veins of reproduction
Wires of communication.
And then the robot is no
Longer just one.
We are the findings.
We are the result.
We are the beginning
And we have nothing.
Explore and elaborate
Upon yourself.
You end up coming back
Just in time to leave.
So perhaps your phrases
Will benefit you.
In third person anyway.
Stop talking to the wall.
Tell your story in the words
You found within yourself
Even if the words were put there
By someone else.
Or just mutter incoherently
That does just as well.
Our future as we know it
Is based in rhyme with no
Sound and beat with no
Bass.
So lets look behind it
And see our past.
There we find what governs us
All. The illusions we keep to
Tell us that we are
Where we belong.
When the only identity on this island
Is the lack thereof.
Searching for roots we
Are instead branching
To places we've not yet gone
And will not yet know.
Our tree grows dormant
Upon winter.
Seasons break us free of
Our whitest errors.
The blankness of slate
Ok gray. Grey errors.
And then and then
And then we find
And then and then
And then we find
And then and then
And then oh but wait.
The murkiest water
Is a blank page.
Wash well your wounds
And rinse with vinegar
Sulfur and sodium
Encased with crystal.
Clean. Clean to the core.
But never truly clean.
So then. Berating aside.
This bookshelf is dust
Formed solid
And we read it willingly.
Lets celebrate our dust
And rust.
Eloquence is for
A wax museum.
And we move too freely
To be frozen.
The talkers talk and the silencers quell.
Like gunfire across the ocean
We wait for the gentle slope
Of the trajectory to end
In drops and splashes.
Raining upon those looking
For enlightenment.
Everything tightens
The grips and the pulses.
Intermeshed with breath
Exhales ignite death.
Love erases everything.
Love cuts open old wounds.
Delight in sight of
Wanted answers
For you'll meet them
When you can't see them.
And then and then
And then you'll see.
When you can only tell
That you were looking
Some time ago
Without an idea of the vision.
It blinds you like a knife wound
Makes you lucid.
Cut deeper. Until and eventually
You find the root. The core,
Its not singular, not any more.
Multiplicity infinite.
A haiku for people that
Can't count. Or won't.
Let's examine the viral
Our exploded self in forms
Of veins of reproduction
Wires of communication.
And then the robot is no
Longer just one.
We are the findings.
We are the result.
We are the beginning
And we have nothing.
Explore and elaborate
Upon yourself.
You end up coming back
Just in time to leave.
So perhaps your phrases
Will benefit you.
In third person anyway.
Stop talking to the wall.
Tell your story in the words
You found within yourself
Even if the words were put there
By someone else.
Or just mutter incoherently
That does just as well.
Our future as we know it
Is based in rhyme with no
Sound and beat with no
Bass.
So lets look behind it
And see our past.
There we find what governs us
All. The illusions we keep to
Tell us that we are
Where we belong.
When the only identity on this island
Is the lack thereof.
Searching for roots we
Are instead branching
To places we've not yet gone
And will not yet know.
Our tree grows dormant
Upon winter.
Seasons break us free of
Our whitest errors.
The blankness of slate
Ok gray. Grey errors.
And then and then
And then we find
And then and then
And then we find
And then and then
And then oh but wait.
The murkiest water
Is a blank page.
Wash well your wounds
And rinse with vinegar
Sulfur and sodium
Encased with crystal.
Clean. Clean to the core.
But never truly clean.
So then. Berating aside.
This bookshelf is dust
Formed solid
And we read it willingly.
Lets celebrate our dust
And rust.
Eloquence is for
A wax museum.
And we move too freely
To be frozen.