Tuesday, June 18, 2013

...and more fragment BBQ

Frayed at the edges narrative which go nowhere;  there are tables left vacant, as time passes. Unusual traumas and lost at a young age suggest a frayed to the breaking point narrative image. The lost positioned by HIV/AIDS still remains to be wrapped up,  if it may ever be, living in chronic fatigue.

an age of neuralgia and nostalgia, and grey
sitting by pink camellias in flower, a garden
for which you no longer can care, delay is
all that happens now, way pass an age where

if it comes to that, goodbye is enough, no
we do not have bad regrets, my funeral I do
not care, that is up to you still alive who
can still decide and have it continue toward

for sure that which we not yet know, can we
think again if the choices are against life
if such dice throws may shut down to zero so
we alive may hide in under ground shelters

what is to be good for techno cyber-mechanical
underground complex linked hidden bunkers of
a failing master nationality is ongoing wars
of type and sorts disguised as minor squabbles

past times contractors did their cybernetics
and arguments went so far and ends with easy
this is new ways we are going to have it done
supplying novel little wars across geographics

it is sending most secret messages, such that
admittance of communication cannot be known
yet the secret must be known or risk a leak
into green cyber swamp ocean swilling across

lines on tidal water edges to land definitions
and secrets in a bottle may wash up on shore
but who is there who opens and carefully reads
messages obscure belonging to some other time

paper printed charts way out of date, getting
lost at sea like lost in endless sand deserts
and quiet back in the garden smelling roses
and more flowers, thousands of flowers bloom

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