wears such a face that cannot sway.
Out from the dusk of the eastern sun,
lies another, time forgot, un-begun.
Battle worn and weary it has weathered,
from every bad transmission tethered.
Hijacking signals from the correct soul,
never charged with the wares that it stole.
Hear they busted that old snake in the last alley,
someone carried over, but they missed the tally.
Forgotten rarities left so gaunt and unattended,
while the conductor cries about the notes he has blended.
Tying knots in sheets of freshly sharpened glass,
wrapping legs around those that wear a mask,
gasping in ‘Dali’ backgrounds that take me straight to task,
while greedily burning the disassociate grin in which I bask.
Into now the northern point of the omnipotent courage to brawl,
Stepping on backs of angels where the flung debris would fall.
Into the southern half of allied darkness just to beg to flee,
only to find you left it behind waiting on broken bended knee.