Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Tuesday Night Post #28

Gentle Critics,  

Excuse the extreme truancy.


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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
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
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.

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