Saturday, February 20, 2010

Poetry from Booksense.

Poetry out of booksense.
The pressure is immense,
making poetry from booksense,
baking thought into minds
thinking thoughts into heads.
Later this evening
a vangaurd on call will roam this earth.
Two feet forward, tail dragging in the past,
presenting the present with tomorrow's future.
Making sense out of poetry,
pulling poetry from booksense.
His weight is immense.
Sentinel sentry, idle eyes idolizing poetics.
Contracting lost data,
virus-ease contacts.
Very loose women parade the streets,
building poetry from experience,
writing books oft abstinance,
building walls out of booksense,
writing poetry in context.
Empty bottles clang together,
the trash man cometh
making music from trash,
writing poetry from emptyness.

Little lives get touched,
with our every action we write the world.
Pulling poetry from culture,
building culture into booksense.

Vangaurd, hear us call.
Wave your weight in our direction.
Flash your lights and show your teeth,
crawling beneath the skin of our planet,
god damn you.
Vangaurd, with your scaled skin so bright,
light our path with flickering bulbs,
extend arms, raise two feet, retreat.
god damn you.
Leave us alone in the darkness dear Vangaurd,
let us find our own way home,
let us live without you,
pulling light from nothing,
pulling poetry from light,
building booksense from clay firepits,
god damn you.

Centuries will pass without a sound,
building earth of man.
Order from nonsense.
Poetry from Booksense.

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