04-16-2014, 02:15 PM
I hopped aboard a bullet train
Beholding etched out marks
On plastic screens between myself
And speeding films apart
The nazi signs were just the notes
Of some besotted youth
Who sought to own a piece of steel
By scratching up a booth
A preacher man sat next to me
And disavowed the state
To help a brother earn a buck
He signed a ballot slate
He spoke about Egyptian plagues
That softened hardened hearts
And set his steadied finger pointed
Towards a supposed tart
I climbed from out a painted cave
And fancied I was home
Amidst the silver towers high
That pierced a greater dome
I wandered through the streets amongst
The wandered blackened feet
And wondered why my unshorn face
Should grow a manly sleet
I felt myself a tender egg
A fused set of crowns
Enameled white and smooth with yolk
And void of yolk in bounds
Inside, my yellow running self
Was set apart by all
The forces that could crack my shell
By a fluid lack of gall
“Ah me,” I thought “a yellow worth
Less sun encased unformed
And void of light to pass through molds
Of potent stuff unborn
I thought that I was surely ripe
And fattened on the vine
Awaiting some fateful plucking fall
From forces such as time.
At my musings end I figured
That death would come
Big or small and I laid my eyes
Upon the preacher’s burn
And saw his flaccid spit- fire rage
and saw his visage born
anew in dazzling robes of white
and shrugged myself forewarned
Beholding etched out marks
On plastic screens between myself
And speeding films apart
The nazi signs were just the notes
Of some besotted youth
Who sought to own a piece of steel
By scratching up a booth
A preacher man sat next to me
And disavowed the state
To help a brother earn a buck
He signed a ballot slate
He spoke about Egyptian plagues
That softened hardened hearts
And set his steadied finger pointed
Towards a supposed tart
I climbed from out a painted cave
And fancied I was home
Amidst the silver towers high
That pierced a greater dome
I wandered through the streets amongst
The wandered blackened feet
And wondered why my unshorn face
Should grow a manly sleet
I felt myself a tender egg
A fused set of crowns
Enameled white and smooth with yolk
And void of yolk in bounds
Inside, my yellow running self
Was set apart by all
The forces that could crack my shell
By a fluid lack of gall
“Ah me,” I thought “a yellow worth
Less sun encased unformed
And void of light to pass through molds
Of potent stuff unborn
I thought that I was surely ripe
And fattened on the vine
Awaiting some fateful plucking fall
From forces such as time.
At my musings end I figured
That death would come
Big or small and I laid my eyes
Upon the preacher’s burn
And saw his flaccid spit- fire rage
and saw his visage born
anew in dazzling robes of white
and shrugged myself forewarned