The length of time is takes me to drive to work
consumes my thoughts each day,
every second ticks with differing beats,
bending, twisting, repeating on itself,
making me late, ridiculously early,
I leave, on time, same time, every morning,
I arrive in blaringly lying times,
then suffer the humiliations of self
attempting to explain such improbable deeds,
god has a bounty on my head.

The slippery roads tell the tale,
churning, burning, yearning for my blood,
wanting to wash themselves clean,
purify their actions through sacrifice
as I spin out the wires
and caress the gravel,
I touch the bitumen to forehead
and connect to the markers,
reflecting, projecting, resurrecting the bridge,
death on the crux, we race towards birth.
Unfathomable, dreary, nonexistent notions
of a time which is manipulative and not coagulative,
fighting for impossibility amongst the inconspicuous.
I surrender.

Reflections

I use the guitar as my canvas,
my voice the paint defining the theme,
and the piano twangs - the background texture.
Sit upon the floor and twist my hair
about fingers playing a tinkering tune,
toes tap errantly to a primal beat of soul,
in my chest [bom-da-bom-da-bom-da],
as my temples spasm in rebellion
of the joyous reaping of such insidious behaviour.
[bom-didda-bom-didda-bom-didda]

Acknowledgements and Gratifications

Thank-ye all,
proclaimeth thy,
an ode to thee,
wise, wizened,
unholy as thou
I worship
my own mockery.





Lotophagi.