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Ok! Uncle Freud
The run across the cliff-
endless, steep, ominous;
with hope that this time,
my arms would flap
and the bridge won’t snap;
one that connects datum with
my cerebral stratagem
-
O! Intense this is, yes sir!
This introspection nightmare,
you bet your money, phony!
Such sweet catatonic despair.
Broken fingernails and broken glass.
The blood smells like fresh bamboo
on a full moon night
-
The TV is hissing white noise-
the white snake of the black night,
the continual static-song
lulling the exo-universe
into an oblong bar on X-Y curve
-
The walls would rush, closing in,
the graffiti would bleed chroma
Animus would reach coitus with Anima
the carpet might bear fruits of solitude
and they could shine in their imperfect rust
neath the thick embrace of dust.
-
Cohen and Cobain play hide in seek
while Lennon creates a Berlin wall within
writing verses of freedom
And Allen walks nude as Huxley smiles
at particularly nothing but something
The half digested meal gets freed
reverse peristalsis post apocalypse
Where has my horse gone now?
endless, steep, ominous;
with hope that this time,
my arms would flap
and the bridge won’t snap;
one that connects datum with
my cerebral stratagem
-
O! Intense this is, yes sir!
This introspection nightmare,
you bet your money, phony!
Such sweet catatonic despair.
Broken fingernails and broken glass.
The blood smells like fresh bamboo
on a full moon night
-
The TV is hissing white noise-
the white snake of the black night,
the continual static-song
lulling the exo-universe
into an oblong bar on X-Y curve
-
The walls would rush, closing in,
the graffiti would bleed chroma
Animus would reach coitus with Anima
the carpet might bear fruits of solitude
and they could shine in their imperfect rust
neath the thick embrace of dust.
-
Cohen and Cobain play hide in seek
while Lennon creates a Berlin wall within
writing verses of freedom
And Allen walks nude as Huxley smiles
at particularly nothing but something
The half digested meal gets freed
reverse peristalsis post apocalypse
Where has my horse gone now?
Published 27th Nov 2011
| Edited 6th Jan 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Anonymous
27th Nov 2011 6:59am
mr wand6 this is brilliant... The subject matter is intense... The writing is penned with perfection... the first 4 lines of the last stanza will stick with me forever. Kudos dude.
27th Nov 2011 5:48pm
30th Jun 2012 1:52am
Delightful dance of words.
The abundance of "help" available in our world seems to be primarily a lot of town criers seeking attention. People listen without hearing.
We have prolific opportunities to engage people across the globe yet society is more disjointed and disconnected from each other than I've ever seen.
Seems to me the masses ooh and aah over the "Emperor's New Clothes" (twitter and facebook) while donning their facade of the day.
You have great vision and discernment in your pieces... and an awesome vocabulary.
The abundance of "help" available in our world seems to be primarily a lot of town criers seeking attention. People listen without hearing.
We have prolific opportunities to engage people across the globe yet society is more disjointed and disconnected from each other than I've ever seen.
Seems to me the masses ooh and aah over the "Emperor's New Clothes" (twitter and facebook) while donning their facade of the day.
You have great vision and discernment in your pieces... and an awesome vocabulary.
30th Jun 2012 2:13am
Sir Ken
Thank you for finding this poem.:)
I have to say I AGREE to everything you have said here about the trends all around. Yes and yes.
You are quite a company and it's a privilege to
know you. Thank you again for the kind words.
Respect,
Sumeet
Thank you for finding this poem.:)
I have to say I AGREE to everything you have said here about the trends all around. Yes and yes.
You are quite a company and it's a privilege to
know you. Thank you again for the kind words.
Respect,
Sumeet
