SOMEONE ASKED IF I WRITE POETRY

SOMEONE ASKED IF I WRITE POETRY

*Universality* towards generational anxiety therefore the way it all works is incorrect pertaining to the wondrous altogether sides in the entire sayings oratories threading towards the entire slating generational creating tragedy after tragedy each word is another word each word is another word each word Is another word each word is another word and after the words there isn’t really a thing saying that we can do anything creating a-new saving afresh generating generational tragedy.

*Fleeting* ambiguity context-less enormity where it has nothing to show for itself at all but another trading trade-off trading words for other words and other words for them and other them for words so can it all be creating the thing for which it was created to just get the ways flowing and traditionalize the myriad ways in which ordinary ambiguities converge to create accidental tragedies anomalous creatures traveling throughout the landscape so that they can all be in a way the ultimate ambiguity.

*Creation* creating saying knowing no-ing now knowledge can be transferred save for a banality of appearances keeping up emergency to emergency where they can all emerge and say this is the man who has saved god from his own malice and stupidity today we can all say with freedom and grace tomorrow we cannot hide the next day we do not know yesterday.

*It* was all defined you had a name and an address and a identity today it is all cold nobody heard nobody said nobody knew you haven’t died you haven’t been born you weren’t even there to begin with nothing can be more banal ordinary save for a fleeting begging sitting on the subway steps in this way an argument can be made claiming the way is to be found and claiming the directionless journey for itself, though thought thought itself to be through with thou the watery direction of the strong seeking the generalization of the week allowing strength to preserver

*Through* no fault of its own allegiance has been maligned amongst consistent traditions being that it could not save its own from betrayal it was thought to have betrayed itself thus nullifying itself and rendering all the worlds committed, the only one who know is hope’s lost child wandering through the desert with wonder and wander winder has it this is no way to be alive this is no way to be alive this is no way to be alive this is no way to be alive this is no way to be alive this is no way to be alive this is not a way.

*Crushing* funeral wreaths laid at the head of sorrow created the illusion it was dealing with something though legend has it was replaced by mercy killing its sister having undone beauty.

השאר תגובה