Feeble, frail, rancid and alive

Stand in the highest ground the horizon could provide
Inhale all the GOOD oxygen you can exhale
Lift your arms, let your body breathe
Feel the breeze blowing under your triceps
Glorify God
Lose all your energy
Die
Let your shoulders drift in contrast and in harmony with the current of life
The oasis we call salvation will either be a fountain to quench our thirst or a mirage to break our hearts
You see...it's the grasses that eat cows after all

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12.01.2004

MACHINEGUN POETRY: I am both the sun and the son

Here I am
Standing in the garden of Eden
Feeling the soothing breath of God
A finite entity that is
The very reason for existence, for life, for death, for eternal life
The start and end of everything beautiful and ugly in the face of the earth
The owner of the land and its soil
Of flowers and its nectar
Of time and its hours
Of the body and its rigor mortise
I own them and yet, there is no such thing as property (true)
For we are but paint on canvass that comes off with paint thinner
We are but dew that will dry in the afternoon

So look at my face
Picture me, kiss me
Hold me by my calves and try pulling me downward

Now hang me
Have me suspended in the air
You see... good things in life are at the very end of it

grasseseatcows
12/01/2004 12:05:00 PM