Fallen Poetry

Seeing the Field - Approaching Thirty - My Mental Dew - The Opposites - Miles from Rapture - She is a Puzzle - British Chicks - Volleys of Fluid

It would be nice to talk to a person intellectually
One who has an opinion and backs it
Instead I talk to a loved-one who's somewhat cursory
And eats with her mouth open and smacks it

Don't get me wrong love does fill the gap
And fun times are always had by all
But to not be able to find Europe on a map
or let alone distinguish a globe from a ball

Lend to too little mental exercise
leaving my rhetoric lazy and dusty
I sometimes need the debate to be precise
and logical not trivial and lusty

But that is why I have these verses
to vent my rational back flushes
because there's sometimes better searches
seeing the field through the rushes

Approaching thirty, slow and dirty
lost my family, lost my sanity
Swirling in my cup, don't really give a fuck
Clouds in my coffee, soft and fluffy

I hear caffeine is mean
can steal away a dream
can make you fall apart
can forget all you seen.

and are you going
and are you there
and are you shaving 
off  your hair.

Cannot breath through my sleeve
up to my face to block my stare
from the bomb and it's  loud glare
do I fear do I  care, inhale the air.

I hear caffeine is mean
can hide away a dream
can make horror from art
can invoke a primal scream

and did you give in
to the political sin
that give in to win
nice seeing you again.

sister is hard, alone and wired
I'm growing ever oh so tired
of wishing hope for me and them
of wishing promises to mend.

I hear caffeine is mean
in a world in bitter dream
haul yourself off in a cart
reoccurring nightmare theme

and did you read the sign
and are you going to die
better get your shit together
can not run and hide.

Nearing thirty, soft and dirty
bare in mind I have no mind
and lost the will to be kind
or just or fair and aware of time.

I hear caffeine is mean
can throw away a simple dream
toss it in the lofty air
and return to us as the sun's own beam...

that burns in our hell
and teaches all too well
that time must come
and much quicker to some.

She is sucking the life from my soul.
I'm getting frail, shallow and old.
My chest is tight and painful
My moods erratic and mournful.

She is sucking the hope from my dreams
I get loud and silent when I scream.
My brain, alone is all foggy now
My ghost, I am a human cow.

I say I love her today, but I can't
I'd say I'd leave tomorrow but I won't
And spinning in my crowded mind
are all our horrors I could find

I stand grazing in a field of woe
I wonder aimless for a social foe.
She is taking the power I once knew
Leaving me mooing in my mental dew

In a land missed virtual bliss
Lost in a dwell of dark abyss

Flaming loud in a blue finesse
Beyond the sight of the opposites

Is where the destiny grazes
Shifts in and out of knowable phases

At a dimension void of known dimensions
It is sought but lost in fond intentions

The reality of reality is naught
With the answer lost the question caught

Our medicine is one inch from capture
and our answers are miles from rapture

Every step we take pushes us back two
and every one taken leaves us more few

Answers fail to better questions needed
and hopes to simple deeds more heeded

We have given words to our mental voice
and books for stupidity's better choice

It's raining experts in a knowledge storm
of prophets and poets bitter cold or warm

But we know now less here than then
and fumble pointless voice, paper and pen

She stands tall above the rest
nondescript at best
and towers above the humble
so not to show her fumble

We know how she thinks but not clearly
she swings left around elections yearly
and tests the volume on her car
and takes the "girls" out to the bar.

She has an image to withhold
and has a vision to unfold
you see she is the villain of our fears
that teaches reaches for our tears

She is incarnate and rock hard
and is abused and heavily marred
something in her is amiss
something poor something rich

She is a puzzle a mystery true
and that induces my internal blue
I do not know her, never met
But I feel her sound I do regret

British chicks
nervous ticks
something in my nose 
	I can't identify
hate the smell of rose
	I won't clarify

And wonder around in sleepless hazes
switch emotions in violent phases

I can't get a grip on me
an anxious dog lost his flea.

short cut hair 
fear of care
something I can't see
	has a hold on me
at low tide
reveals the world to me
	at least sets me free.

Our wicked slime we have
That perpetuates the breed
That redundiates the man
That passes on the seed.

Our mutual scream of joy
That announces the time
That rewards the deed
That defies our rhyme.

Oh, the volleys of fluid 
That gathers like a druid
To a ritual that's entwined
The ecstasy is defined.


This document maintained by GLJ
Material Copyright © 2004 Gary Jungling