Aphorism that once lilted with grace
Are pulled apart at the commas,
Assassinated with miscommunication.
Spliced and dangling,
Intransigent and ignorant,
My words are interlopers, squatters,
Homeless fiends of inconsequence.
They mutter to themselves
In the confines of the alley,
Aggravated as they are ignored
By the throng running by,
Pretending not to notice the signs and signifiers.
In the margins ideas fester
Unexpressed discontent wears itself to a blister.
Filled with blood and puss over tender skin.
When it’s slit it oozes off the page,
And drips down onto the pavement.
To be trample by the heels, soles, open toes
Carried unknowingly to the abortion rally,
The bake sale, and the synagogue,
Leaving little stains on the ground,
From which will sprout more evidence
Of my ignorance, as it flowers and trying to convince
The swarming buzzing
Cloud of liars, thieves, and sycophants
Of all the ignorance
I thought was so important
but really aint..
Laughter will choke the roots
The blister will subside
The homeless metaphors will break
Into a chorus. A hustling young agent
Will sign them to an exclusive engagement
And I will be ever the less expressed
Mute mouth and fingerless.
Slogging in this carapace.
That’s the rub, until the roots
All crumble to incoherence,
Decomposed and recomposing,
By the random the logic of entropy
Passed down through generations
By the sons of God and apes,
The daughters of the rain,
Until there remains only a myth of truth
In all our Mothers’ hand-me-down pain.