Jeff's Poetry

i placed an idol, a dollar's worth of grocery into this cheap old bag; clutched it tight to my chest, i ransacked the library for old wisdom lost, believing that perhaps a message could turn plight to might; feeble dreary worn down body aching to rest on an alarming loud horn blasting past, another one of those

i caught the midnight train, eager to whizz off to utopia, to osiris as he called fondly: after all i had noble goals, and along the way i was side tracked by behemoth stomping across plains unseen, what prickles, what sandstorm that came out of no where, the wise men they came up with ideas, each method failing, from the monarchs, the socialist, the romantics, religious

although it has to be nudged, plowed arm in arm, conspirators in the murky dusk, but do not hold your breath! already the inspector is on the prowl, his baton is heard tapping away, to find protestors amazed at the ground shifting, the tap water has

what languid sullied stillness, to be sheltered in that cocoon lava and call it - pleasure but pleasure bites like a dog in heat, focused zoomed in; magnified, extrapolated till the whines rattle the rails on their way to rusting, weakening breaking: rocks becoming sand, a house enveloped

and yet cursed it was; when creation hearkens not! what say you? eh - a shrugging of the shoulders, don't mind me. till

reason commands, dictates, shoos the bus dashes across high mountains eager to drown the horrors of death whose yelling, screaming, beatings echo eerily around these vast canvas wrinkling, convulsing, it is not wanting to breathe

it's just inner dialogue, no big deal a shuffling of feet - a candle gets lighted up: who goes there? and a muse began to sing; found i started to copy

ah life - ... ... exquisite. a tremendous river cascading, breaking down dams unbreakable; stones, concrete, sand rushing forth when a force is first felt, moved, breath

turn on, turn off, roll down the blinds roll up the blinds - a boy has become a man, with time rolling across the sand; crest, subsides, wails and lashes but the man holds fast to memories of a boy grasping at a controller, eyes glued to the television screen

it's cheap for a reason, it's fake for a reason, cheap fake pearl and a buyer quite eager to trade shame, guilt and fear for a small token.