Close the lap top,
Unwrap the old notebook,
With notes took
To document a
Louis and Clark expedition
Through a processed,
Counter-culture heartless,
Darkened with sharpened
Charcoal stick, landscape
Where I harvest a profitable
Aspect that I now harness
And cherish within
Locked compartments
Of cardioid servants.
Meaning my maids can't clean
The furnace
Where I furnish my new feelings
Deserving of a clean slate.
A memoir for myself;
A note on my desk
To not forget
To resist letting the past get to me.
The wind blew the page;
No, I just blinked my eyes
And the reason why
Diminished.
I remember when I finished
I put the ink down.
I listen now,
To make out the grimace.
Lost inside a glistened
List of characteristics
Without a melody to carry it;
A chariot without the horse
To carry on with merriment
For a glutinous audience
Not impressed by a thrift dressed
Convict with too much
Confidence in his arrogance.
Flip the page,
Change the day,
And carry on with the belligerence.
Like rain drops with deep causes
The black speckles on the paper;
A set of chicken scratch pauses
Then capers around the neighbors
With playful loving behavior
But thinks of devilish thoughts
Similar to Denis the Menace
If he was suspended from school;
I'm suspended in rules
With a fetish for the breaking of them,
With the sweetest of resin
I use as my only reverend.
The paper says it all,
I close my notebook
And take a look up at the stars;
As they fall.
