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Greg Taven

[ website | Greg The Green Art & Design ]
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Poem [06 Jul 2007|04:14pm]
[ mood | frustrated ]

cause point b holds so much power to me (root thoughts that strangle)

i know i know and my conscious thought block's.
it's taking me too many layer's away from reality. 
into illusion. 
its bringing me toward confusion, the seductive nothingness of everyday where nothing matter's but more dulling. 
thud thud more thudding.
fists and drinks blissed blessed wrong-thought it teach's me one-thing: where not to be. 
and its a mandala a hypnotist's gaze to get me from point a to point b. 
a is far away. 
a isn't exactly the most aesthetically appealing.
and what rub's a charge rub's me the wrooong way.  
hey, there's just not much appealing about this self-refferal, seeing in plural.
hand candidate's mandate's for to the wrong way down the mountain. 
but all else fails to me, the rhyme and the rhythm and the reason of the dull i mull.
i'd take a stroll in a field and a bite from a bug anyday from a night in the club. 
i'm just not a fitter in, don't usually know where to begin so wrap in cloak. 
i'm a phantom tollbooth call unanswered.
rest assured it please's them, mortal men, for me no for me only platform's
diving boards, and plank's to walk into deeper level's of thought.
trip and fall face foot baby doll
trip and fall into strangulation
thought-straining, paining, iron fists in concrete
pattern's won't let me go if i run, dictate day
dictate with fist's of iron and every alcemy
blinds, binds and brings me into imagination with conjecture potion its a mild degree..
its a mild degree to a mile and all the while no one know's where i be. 
not even me.
heh well that flash is the only way i know. 
there isn't a lot i know when i'm blocked from there but what's funny is, i can see it in the distance.
ya, that's the real funny thing hey? 
i can see it way out there. 
and so no matter how ignorant or chaotic or downright pain i'm walking out. 
i'm going towards that light and if i have to fight my own mind so be it. 
the sword of my soul has its own energy. 
the sword and shield i have to carry everyday anyway. 
so take that uncontrollable thought! 
one day i won't need these informal discussion's. 
i'm convinced and spellbinded by that time, when the day will meld like melting colours
when strength bleeds into militance
the sign at the end of the road i'll give reading a go. 
the rest don't matter much. 
cause point b holds so much power to me
the day i've last deuled with head, every superfolous meandering. 
sorry if i may have neglected everything else.
to understand you'd have to see me the way i do:
at the bottom of a lake 24/7 looking up at everything around me.

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