Thursday, November 6, 2014

Pseudo-Improv for a Grey, Post-Election Wednesday

[Originally typed up in Facebook. Transposed here intact, with font formatting added.]

Seems so quiet
I know there's life here
wasn't so long ago
it strode plain

towering Hyatt
pierced the stratosphere
room to grow
to a new plane

who would buy it
it would disappear
a seaward flow
as of rain

reverse riot
lyingly severe
a bush aglow
the flaming brain

heat will fry it
cracked and sere
perfected so
it can only complain

who could deny it
meiosis of fear
creeps from below
and will not abstain

who dares to try it
a radical shift
a bent timeline
to a better course

scattered power
perform this lift
seek to combine
each disparate resource

hour follows hour
the widening rift
the slopes decline
void of remorse

to survey and scour
to gather and sift
and fall with a whine
from soul-crushing force

and sit recessed, sour
and just vaguely miffed
to find nothing fine
that one could endorse

each passing flower
may perchance be sniffed
or wither in sunshine
doting energy source

or have weeds devour
all that's far and near
how I long to know
we can break this chain

Seems so quiet
and easy to drift
if I can just hear
even sounds of mine
then I could go
like a whipped horse
bolting from pain
to a gentle shower
and new territory
without restriction

an alien story
fact or fiction?

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