Once upon a time, I was a baby
Once upon a twice, the world came to be.
This is a story about how
My lifeís been twisted through my vain philosophy
And this is just how it goes.

Hungry but won't eat
Thirsty but won't drink
Tired but won't sleep
Tied to ends that don't meet
A world without lines
A world with outlines
This worldís doing double time
In a world debating its own reprise.

I am entropy defined, an amorphous benign and sublime kind of devouring design.

You can call it broken, mock me if you will
If I can make the cut, I've got the skill to kill...still...
I guess I'm kind of edgy, but call it what you'd like
I guess I'm not that edgy, so you can call me wordy,
Or worldly, anything but worthy
Sharpness has no standard getting points across verbally.

Through equanimity, the balance beam upon which the oceanic seam of reality and dreams seem to discretely assess my sleeplessness,
I log my pedagogical cogitating, flogging my provocative debating for a price that Iím staging
But nonetheless,
Be hungry for the answers even if Iím not your waiter
Or be prepared for the truth to have you now and seconds later.
Call me a Pro-creator, an instigator, a game saver, a pontificator
But I pay my dues now for the payback far greater

A verse; First came first to serve
a second coming, seconds going, a second ending
a musical rhetoric on which I am depending
Shorthand to a shortcut getting shortchanged on a shortcoming we donít deserve
Itís no surprise,

Itís all
Repeat and Reprise
Release and Realize
Proceed and Provide
Perceive and Prescribe
Cycles through Satires
Libel through the Retired
This world I canít admire
A world built to feed desire

We are a generation of facilitation, a malignant fascination with that of prejudiced inclination.

Label as you please, and do address my lack of muse
Like car wrecks in open streets when structureís substance is abused
Polemics go so far but only if you have a point
Pandemics go too far when this earth is all that matters
Itís paucityís palaver, an ethical cadaver
Destruction allows for reconstruction, the prior is ill willed without the latter

Through expiation Ė a redemption of empathetic dimensions, lest we mention a mental exemption of a misconception of fault and fiction
Guiltís a superstitious itch, glitches and stitches, a meretricious depiction
But keep in mind:
Thereís nothing more redeeming than poignant rationale
Acumen of our human nature needs not to be corralled
This is a grand mal, a feigned thralldom of morale, bathos without locale

Control Ė get it and you will have it.
The exception to the 8th deadly sin of habit
Itís a mandatory and erect reflection;
My philosophy, reciprocity, velocity and therefore direction
Before you get my perspective, you have to know your place
Looking into looking out, hide and seek, give and take
But instead,

Weíve been stuck with
Reprise and relapse † †
Concisely collapsed
Capsize and retract
Weíre confined when unwrapped
But denial is no feat
Why try to compete?
We devise to deplete,
Simply rinse, lather, repeat.

These kinds of things go hand in hand, so to speak.

Those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it
But doesnít that mean we are doomed to learn, and therefore become the past?
Oh, but with that kind of logic, nothing really gets fixed.

They say the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step
But that doesnít mean you always do things one step at a time, and it certainly doesnít mean youíll finish because you started,
It just means that
The longest journeys are the ones we choose to start over.
So I guess Iíll just start where I left offÖ

Once upon a time, I was a baby.
Once upon a twice, the world came to be.
Once upon a three, four, five
Once upon closed eyes
Once upon a fight
Once upon a battle
Once upon my rights
Once upon my prattle
Itís not just my story.
This is truly a story about how
History never even began
But thatís just how it goes.
Written by Duality
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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