Monday, February 18, 2013

The 40 day Tirade

I'm so fucking cultured ain't I?
Bare naked, on hostile ground.
Torn from the womb with gaudy abrasion.
The roaring soliloquy of a fostered pet.
A howl at the moon.  

Can you hear me? 
(How it shines upon us.) 
This fraud, this poor imitation.  
(But a flattering one.)
Like a false idol, or a death mask.
This palely drawn still life of godliness.
Who brings unity through vision.
And reflection through the darkness.

Reminding us all what we are on this earth


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