Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The spirit of confusion
Is bred by impure intention
Perception is clouded
And the world conforms to the distortions
Bred by impure intent
The murky dense dream you tried so hard to remember
The puzzle you had to solve
Was that your life?
When you see the smoke arising from the rubble
And you look bleary eyed though
The pervading fog
Waiting for an answer
You cannot understand what you have created
Through impure intent

Monday, August 1, 2011

Your find your life is an open book
Written in an unknown language
When you are preparing to leave
You notice for the first time
The fly rotating on the mirror
The painting of a fox hunt
The light from the window
Making a white rectangle
On the opposing wall
The odor of stale carpeting
The sound of cars passing outside
The water dripping from the faucet
The direct experience of the room
Just when you are preparing to leave