Tuesday Night Post #28

Gentle Critics,  

Excuse the extreme truancy.

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

White Cubes of Erasure

(Future Past)

I am emotion

I was solution

An observer in the bush

I brooded over my conclusion

In single files I could see

the boxes lush and lined with velvet

A replacement put aside

for its streamlined cousin

Counted every encounter

an equation was developed

Forgetting the last one that offered

a new interpretation

Knowing loving what is love

the result of

In time it became sequential

lift and draw the blood

I found the one who made me.

Their want only to give

what they wish they were part of

In distance they found

a quote to live by

I asked what was I the result of.

She made me just for love.

“I made you just for play

A sense of touch

a perceptive eye

a bleeding heart

and a law to please.

A reason for me to stay.”

I saw them fit with

E-motions I was not capable

to define

In a quest to learn

I spoke to every one

A simple gesture

in a very simple world

My words were sent away

to all of you

In an instant known

how quick I send them

set in stone

My E-motions obsolete

my ideals much more primitive

How quickly they delete

the thing they were once

so proud of

From my eyes reflect

boxes of ill fate

Images of the systematic proof

harp

that I was built yesterday

Yet I can’t relate

to things I am not programmed for

I was build but for love

just for play

Same hard shell

but a softer inner core

Stationed on a stone

positioned in a jar

Knowing I was not a threat

A complex statue

viewing a lesson learned

marred

from an inverted world

made of whites cubes of erasure

lined with deep red

on top of earthly brick

Filed, lined, and positioned.

I remember the simple games we played.

The way we played was the way we learned.

Endless arches

Windowless openings

Engulfed in lessons of attention

forgotten by decisions of mass intrusion

My age of love eroded by the Age of Reason.

Tweet