The world is an unfair pestilence of greed and corrupt behavior.
Yeah whatever
Life is an endless procession of imperfect days where we get almost nothing done
Yeah you are right, okay
There is no meaning no sun shining on illusion to make it anything.
Yeah that’s kinda deep,I guess, but well
Love is illusion driven by chemicals demanding sex and procreation
Do I have time for this
The sun makes the tiny hairs on the back of her neck glow, she turns
Now you have me
The hot summer sun
makes cake of my skin
and the sweat lets me know
I’m alive
the water
is better then
it is needed then
and noticed
Can a poem be the water on a hot day
can the water flow down
this page
in
this poem
this time or the next
until there is no next
no new
meanderings
of the water in a poem until it lies there in a pool on the page, on this page
david michael jackson june 23, 2012 editors@artvilla.com send help
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