plato
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My aspirations were like grand constellations
Plucking one dream after the next
Then came the Big Bang of adolescence
With every burning goal
Came a larger person
To put it out
Dear Plato,
This desolate stone sculpture fumbling around with Play-Doh
Molding the world, keeping us afloat
Bearded Athenian, the framer's scapegoat.
Before the end it all took place,
I met a man who drew my face;
The paint decides the life it shows,
As ancient men like Plato knows...
for in that portrait I was king,
and people never knew a thing...
memes of bee movie and arthur's fist
conservative politicians and twitter flips
the land i am in deems a laughingstock
while immigrants stir the melting pot.
i dug the holes of the holy saints
THE PUREST KNOWLEDGE
Is preparing us for the day we die.
I understand it’s a gorgeous day outside.
Change is not an illusion.
The basic substance is water.
Opposites create each other.
Blurry lines and crooked faces all crowd around, hushed by the inevitable doom, I breathe, I exist and yet all the same I am not like them, I see the awful glory of the lights thrown against the cave walls, and I digress...
There is a fire which burns in all men, oft banked by worldly care
It needs but one breath to waken its heat, a wind of holy air
On pagan altar once it burned, its all-consuming heat
Change is what I can see
What I can hear
And what I feel everywhere.
By my well-dressed organs,
Dressed in customised compulsion of slumber confusing which with perfection
But not my soul
Everything has a face
Just like my Brother’s old backpack
Hanging in the closet with its snares and tares
And every time I look
At it seeing its entirety, places it’s gone, baggage it has carried
