beyond reason
“I'm afraid I can't explain myself, sir. Because I am not myself, you see?”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
digital montage by dsnake1
beyond reason
damnit we did chop down a tree to get at its fruits
the other day i swing a sledgehammer to crush a fly
do you have to drop that bomb on hiroshima?
do you need a blowtorch to melt that snowflake?
the succubus dances and flirts in the neon night
meth peddlers holler your name in dim alleys
we are snakes, coiled and uncoiled, wary
but we were younger then, we live on air alone
the night is our lover and wears a cheap perfume
who are afraid of snakes in the weeds?
the pen looks at me, gives a finger and goes back to sleep
it does not want to speak of battles and love
we just like to do things this way, lots of drama
until
in the dark room 3 a.m. i wish for the rain to come
but instead it is a police cruiser, silent, no sirens
the blue red of its strobes flutter on the panes
damnit, do you need to call the cops because you can't sleep?
written : 15/07/2014
extended : 19/12/2016
*******************
Yes, I am really not myself. You see, my desktop PC decided to quit on Chinese New Year's eve, and with it went a chunk of my poems and scans and photos. Arrg! what an idiot not to backup all the stuff. And man, it is the Lunar New Year, and that means a couple of weeks of spring cleaning, heavy spending , inadequate sleep and binge drinking.
Normally, I will write something nice for the new year. But, well. I am posting from a borrowed MacBook, so yeah, please bear with me. ☢
You will wonder did I make all that fire just to kill a snake?
*
from “Bombyonder” by Reb Livingston
This poem was inspired by the above lines from the Bibliomancy Oracle and the current crazy state of wold affairs. It can work in mind-altering ways.
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2017
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
beyond reason
damnit we did chop down a tree to get at its fruits
the other day i swing a sledgehammer to crush a fly
do you have to drop that bomb on hiroshima?
do you need a blowtorch to melt that snowflake?
the succubus dances and flirts in the neon night
meth peddlers holler your name in dim alleys
we are snakes, coiled and uncoiled, wary
but we were younger then, we live on air alone
the night is our lover and wears a cheap perfume
who are afraid of snakes in the weeds?
the pen looks at me, gives a finger and goes back to sleep
it does not want to speak of battles and love
we just like to do things this way, lots of drama
until
in the dark room 3 a.m. i wish for the rain to come
but instead it is a police cruiser, silent, no sirens
the blue red of its strobes flutter on the panes
damnit, do you need to call the cops because you can't sleep?
written : 15/07/2014
extended : 19/12/2016
*******************
Yes, I am really not myself. You see, my desktop PC decided to quit on Chinese New Year's eve, and with it went a chunk of my poems and scans and photos. Arrg! what an idiot not to backup all the stuff. And man, it is the Lunar New Year, and that means a couple of weeks of spring cleaning, heavy spending , inadequate sleep and binge drinking.
Normally, I will write something nice for the new year. But, well. I am posting from a borrowed MacBook, so yeah, please bear with me. ☢
You will wonder did I make all that fire just to kill a snake?
*
from “Bombyonder” by Reb Livingston
This poem was inspired by the above lines from the Bibliomancy Oracle and the current crazy state of wold affairs. It can work in mind-altering ways.
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2017
Labels: 70's, anger, depression, heartlands, Poetry, prompt
posted by dsnake1 at 9:28 PM
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