deepundergroundpoetry.com
Self Portrait in Parabola
Hair… The texture & color
of ravens feathers
falling to the floor
the speed of obscure
because for years…
I have circled the parameters -
in the world of Biblical monsters
set to be set free as the indicators
Align
As all things in the dimension
of time
tend to find
a place & a time…
A judgement said
that I lived a life of crime
and should be banished until I am dead.
But I wonder…
If that was the case
then why did they have to break their own laws
to place me in that place?
If I had fucks to give I would ask of them...
Who is the real criminal -
that has led a life of crime?
Fuck them.
I follow my hair to the time
of a cold reverberation
Of sand
...under one of my secret trap doors
staring up at the floorboards of the floor
taking the scissors to my hair
amongst jars and jars of drugs and treasure
Pulsating darkness
...the meditation of madness
...but I found the power
that those in power
Did not conceive was there
in a two thousand & twelve yard stare
That has delivered me here
in a parabola oscillating under & over
As it all comes together
with the shapes of my spiritual structure
I am here… Mother fucker
And going there
(self portrait inspired by song & video “Parabola” by Tool
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_nQhGR0K8M)
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