Matchsticks and Dry Straw Make for Great Life Decisions

I don’t know how to form proper prose,.
I don’t know how to imprison words into sentences
to make others feel free,.
But I do know how to destroy,.
to alter creation with the hands of evolution,.
I can taste a form of indignity when surrounded by royalty,.
filling their cups with fine wine from some bygone year when the weather was fair,.
now it is cold,.
When will the life I lead make a sound,.
I care for it not to be profound,.
I just want it to be seen around,.
Or on top of the ice cream truck when it passes through town,.
making those terrible songs attract kids,.
Will this make any sense
I ask myself,.
will this concoction of indecipherable ink make some semblance of notes,.
that weep through a guitar when the artist is imagining happiness,.
But knows of nothing but weeping out of windows while children make snowmen,.
Shameless reference with possible copyright infringement happening just now,.
can we build a snowman???? I sometimes wish she would build a new business,.
hot chocolate truck anyone? Have the food, we just want the fluids,.
Maybe in another dimension or perhaps I am on to a new idea,.
investors will make their contributions and I will make mine,.
This makes no sense,.
none of it will flow like a waterfall in the Hawaiian islands,.
no ohia tree will benefit from this indelible trash heap of arguments and digressions,.
Stay on track, stay on the course,.
words will be there all the time no matter which side they choose,.
I have seen them take up swords against meager men whom challenge their promises,.
I have seen them take guard over innocence and benevolence,.
Jesus flippin Christ, will this make any sense,.
I do not care,. Just like the sheep on the meadow getting fat from grass,.
then smoke it to experiment with freedom from a mundane life,.

Make it happen, put it all together, and let someone see to it as they will,.
Or just leave them in confusion like the world we erected with idols and celebrities,.
science and religion with a dash of pepper for the eyes to burn when they read this,.
o what a terrible web we weave and aces up our tattered sleeves,..,.,,.