Post by highspitter on Aug 12, 2007 21:30:23 GMT -5
On a journey to the furthest reaches of this Earthly shore,
Sailing the seven seas of dissonance to the liquor store,
Purchase a bottle of liquid mind numbing prophecy,
Direct your attention to the monument erection on the screen,
Does it bleed? Does it feel? Does it possess enough free will?
Is it human? Can it think? Does it ruminate on winks?
The projection subject is clearly a being-by-itself,
An existential anomaly relief sculpture sitting on the shelf,
One of gods many creatures set upon the menagerie,
Stuck in circumstantial stasis like a forlorn Appleseed,
It can pose questions, though it rarely receives an answer,
Smokes enough cigarettes to give an elephant cancer,
It often is depressed, though it puts on a happy face,
While eating itself to oblivion, notice its twitches and shakes,
A peculiar character, this creature of the deep,
Diving beneath the undercurrent just to prove it can sink,
Yet can it sing the blues? Does it know how to spit?
Can it find its way out of a deluge? Or does it prefer to live in the pit?
Does it remember the past? Does it contemplate suicide?
Does it feel the Atlas load? Is it able to heave a sigh?
Sustained by throat burners and stomach churners,
While watching outside; the world builders,
It is socially inept, though the memories it kept,
Are as pure as its abode, the apartment unfurnished,
Unfinished business keeps it searching,
For a piece of mind demon which is always lurking,
But unattainable, for its possesses no soul to sell,
The creatures life itself is already a living hell.
Sailing the seven seas of dissonance to the liquor store,
Purchase a bottle of liquid mind numbing prophecy,
Direct your attention to the monument erection on the screen,
Does it bleed? Does it feel? Does it possess enough free will?
Is it human? Can it think? Does it ruminate on winks?
The projection subject is clearly a being-by-itself,
An existential anomaly relief sculpture sitting on the shelf,
One of gods many creatures set upon the menagerie,
Stuck in circumstantial stasis like a forlorn Appleseed,
It can pose questions, though it rarely receives an answer,
Smokes enough cigarettes to give an elephant cancer,
It often is depressed, though it puts on a happy face,
While eating itself to oblivion, notice its twitches and shakes,
A peculiar character, this creature of the deep,
Diving beneath the undercurrent just to prove it can sink,
Yet can it sing the blues? Does it know how to spit?
Can it find its way out of a deluge? Or does it prefer to live in the pit?
Does it remember the past? Does it contemplate suicide?
Does it feel the Atlas load? Is it able to heave a sigh?
Sustained by throat burners and stomach churners,
While watching outside; the world builders,
It is socially inept, though the memories it kept,
Are as pure as its abode, the apartment unfurnished,
Unfinished business keeps it searching,
For a piece of mind demon which is always lurking,
But unattainable, for its possesses no soul to sell,
The creatures life itself is already a living hell.