Friday, April 29, 2005
Locus Ruine (Part 1) Point I, II, III
I.
Of Course Point Off Track
Afternoon hustles the rails blare
A desolate lone spark ignites.
Hands clutch stick steel pole:
Sweat gently conjoins to tips
Passengers avoid direct eye contact
Locate dread-locks bangarang bongo drum
(singular) in stealth admission.
Guilt left
Reveal a fixed interval : precise demarcation.
Tracks stained oil goblets of lubrication
Glisten in steal beams offer reflection.
Opting for history of oppression
Not the happy-go-lucky capitalism.
Mass appeal loss to Marketing,
Stony-eyed executives erupt(ion)
Boom Chik Boom Chik Boom Chik
Tickets ripple, looming formal as dismal
Passion martyred safety prescription
Processing identity for perspective validation.
II.
Point to Smell the Air
The scent of lights Marlboro,
Matches lay burnt, darkened ends
Once ablaze from addiction.
Ash to filter
Tossed momentarily, the silence between
Boarding and squatting, no wink or nod
Active participation.
Doors shut, latch slid in
Air tight, a seal of approval.
No space for bodiless seats
Or any doubtful naysayers conducting
Colloquial business.
Contraction, one breath at a time
Sitting at the rail bar dismal yet comfort
In capital or whiskey sour.
Lunch was turket on
Freedom Toast, post commentary here.
Conduct nasal atonements, not for passengers
Locked in a light closet for top hats or fur coats.
Shivering in a moment, the carpet scent
Dirty laundry, one more hour to go.
III.
Point of Arrival (Identification)
Here or there in the broadest sense of the word(s). Never come home, not for one reason. Many unspoken phrases, whispered on this salty platform. Seafoam cloud skies over Brooklyn. At 3:00pm the top of the clock blurred. Self sacrifice was never a strong coat for anyone in these times.
Understand the man spoke to his motherless child. Lost conversation trails off into a tunnel. Cloak and dagger secrecy kept under the guise of protection. Camera take in visual cues, suspicion of skin tone not actual behavior. Tongues lash out spiral to sweaty palms, clinging to laminated stock. Numbers line up on a notebook pad. Cycles rotate.
Post-modern arrival delayed give way for change. Conversation locked in romanticized beliefs over outdated cultural mind sets. Spoken so trite and to the point, offensive in the nature of tension. A conundrum found in Washington crossing the Delaware. Rivers identify false truths to produce a basic thesis of… comments and questions will be taken after the lecture. Scoffing your feet on the welcome mat.
Of Course Point Off Track
Afternoon hustles the rails blare
A desolate lone spark ignites.
Hands clutch stick steel pole:
Sweat gently conjoins to tips
Passengers avoid direct eye contact
Locate dread-locks bangarang bongo drum
(singular) in stealth admission.
Guilt left
Reveal a fixed interval : precise demarcation.
Tracks stained oil goblets of lubrication
Glisten in steal beams offer reflection.
Opting for history of oppression
Not the happy-go-lucky capitalism.
Mass appeal loss to Marketing,
Stony-eyed executives erupt(ion)
Boom Chik Boom Chik Boom Chik
Tickets ripple, looming formal as dismal
Passion martyred safety prescription
Processing identity for perspective validation.
II.
Point to Smell the Air
The scent of lights Marlboro,
Matches lay burnt, darkened ends
Once ablaze from addiction.
Ash to filter
Tossed momentarily, the silence between
Boarding and squatting, no wink or nod
Active participation.
Doors shut, latch slid in
Air tight, a seal of approval.
No space for bodiless seats
Or any doubtful naysayers conducting
Colloquial business.
Contraction, one breath at a time
Sitting at the rail bar dismal yet comfort
In capital or whiskey sour.
Lunch was turket on
Freedom Toast, post commentary here.
Conduct nasal atonements, not for passengers
Locked in a light closet for top hats or fur coats.
Shivering in a moment, the carpet scent
Dirty laundry, one more hour to go.
III.
Point of Arrival (Identification)
Here or there in the broadest sense of the word(s). Never come home, not for one reason. Many unspoken phrases, whispered on this salty platform. Seafoam cloud skies over Brooklyn. At 3:00pm the top of the clock blurred. Self sacrifice was never a strong coat for anyone in these times.
Understand the man spoke to his motherless child. Lost conversation trails off into a tunnel. Cloak and dagger secrecy kept under the guise of protection. Camera take in visual cues, suspicion of skin tone not actual behavior. Tongues lash out spiral to sweaty palms, clinging to laminated stock. Numbers line up on a notebook pad. Cycles rotate.
Post-modern arrival delayed give way for change. Conversation locked in romanticized beliefs over outdated cultural mind sets. Spoken so trite and to the point, offensive in the nature of tension. A conundrum found in Washington crossing the Delaware. Rivers identify false truths to produce a basic thesis of… comments and questions will be taken after the lecture. Scoffing your feet on the welcome mat.
# posted by Bobby Bobson : 12:19 PM
