The total written world does not do much, while we sit and wait, dancing on our pretty poignant prances, traipsing through town diligently seeking decadence hidden behind excess intelligence.
The surface scratches and one peeks in, excited by the promises from within. After a few more scratches, surface spared, one takes a few steps back and seeks repair.
The patterns of our life hidden by our outward irregularities awkwardly align us with the person next to us. They will be of use, if only for a reminder of what is to go on.
Discussion of scheduled normalcy seems redundantly obsolete, void, and un-useful. Progressive probes seeking adventured roads lead to beautiful valleys of sunshine and waterfalls… rainbows, bird’s crows, mystic beauty of the ultimate satisfaction that we all crave and slave for.
In the city of vertical stature, I step onto the platform and see only lateral escapes. Up is not an option, only sideways through tubes.
We don’t fall too far from our tree. Sometimes our fruited body rolls up a small hill, down a trail, into and across a body of water… but we are still from that tree.
The tendency to desire to flee is common for the worker bee- perpetually seeking that punctual and melodramatic escape preventing the icing from finishing the cake.
Cough, sniff, or clear your throats that skip your attempt to pull out is void and unreal. Too rehearsed, people know what you are really thinking and hiding behind. It is so evident.
I made an observation. Not a real one, but at least one that can be real. It could be real, right now, without waiting or over-seeking. It is not far from reality:
He, over there, has just been fired from his job.
She, sitting down on that bench, just dreamed of what she would do if she won the lottery.
That little girl feels the first sensation of guilt after telling her first lie.
The mother senses the beginning of the end.
The buss rolls by and on it 1/3 of the people are at least 5 minutes late for where they need be which is actually an average of 5 blocks and two flights of stairs from the stop where they will all get off.
On the corner, two friends meet.
She takes off her sunglasses and squints at the sky.
He talks on a payphone and causes someone to cry.
That little boy over there will never learn to fly, but he will probably make someone cry.
A car drives by with rented wheels to impress a girl in heels. It won’t work, he can’t smile.
The common living room is beautiful, golden, private, and full of disclosure. It can also be filthy and taxed.
The sooner we recognize the power at the tips, and stop trying to compensate for the concept of what is not to come, we will surpass all of our own deficiencies allowing us to greatly surpass others wading in the water fed to the grass.
The surface scratches and one peeks in, excited by the promises from within. After a few more scratches, surface spared, one takes a few steps back and seeks repair.
The patterns of our life hidden by our outward irregularities awkwardly align us with the person next to us. They will be of use, if only for a reminder of what is to go on.
Discussion of scheduled normalcy seems redundantly obsolete, void, and un-useful. Progressive probes seeking adventured roads lead to beautiful valleys of sunshine and waterfalls… rainbows, bird’s crows, mystic beauty of the ultimate satisfaction that we all crave and slave for.
In the city of vertical stature, I step onto the platform and see only lateral escapes. Up is not an option, only sideways through tubes.
We don’t fall too far from our tree. Sometimes our fruited body rolls up a small hill, down a trail, into and across a body of water… but we are still from that tree.
The tendency to desire to flee is common for the worker bee- perpetually seeking that punctual and melodramatic escape preventing the icing from finishing the cake.
Cough, sniff, or clear your throats that skip your attempt to pull out is void and unreal. Too rehearsed, people know what you are really thinking and hiding behind. It is so evident.
I made an observation. Not a real one, but at least one that can be real. It could be real, right now, without waiting or over-seeking. It is not far from reality:
He, over there, has just been fired from his job.
She, sitting down on that bench, just dreamed of what she would do if she won the lottery.
That little girl feels the first sensation of guilt after telling her first lie.
The mother senses the beginning of the end.
The buss rolls by and on it 1/3 of the people are at least 5 minutes late for where they need be which is actually an average of 5 blocks and two flights of stairs from the stop where they will all get off.
On the corner, two friends meet.
She takes off her sunglasses and squints at the sky.
He talks on a payphone and causes someone to cry.
That little boy over there will never learn to fly, but he will probably make someone cry.
A car drives by with rented wheels to impress a girl in heels. It won’t work, he can’t smile.
The common living room is beautiful, golden, private, and full of disclosure. It can also be filthy and taxed.
The sooner we recognize the power at the tips, and stop trying to compensate for the concept of what is not to come, we will surpass all of our own deficiencies allowing us to greatly surpass others wading in the water fed to the grass.
posted by scott at 1:12 AM
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