posted on Jun, 7 2010 @ 08:19 PM
Here's where it's all at:
A place to belong,
A world to evolve,
A feeling to absorb;
A love to fear,
To cry for.
People to change the world.
That feed on discussion,
Ruin with alcohol, drugs, delusions.
They forever praise knowledge and
Live in ignorance, corruption-
Personal and public.
Where does it all fit?
How will this contribute?
A sub-subculture killing itself
While trying to awaken the rest.
Lost.
Its wings to fly melt in the sun-
When they fall--well, the cycle goes on, and on, and...
A sub-subculture killing itself
Puts its beliefs to the test...
Unfulfilled, unproven. Again.
I should be the one,
I love them too much.
Truth needs to be heard, believed,
Accepted, embraced.
Mister Parker, play your wild jazz for me. Cause I got a feeling
you can make it alright, tonight. Play for me birdman, play that jazz
till my headache goes runnin' away from your sax chasing hurt like longing
hunts down those that stray. Oh, oh oh, put down your poison and give me that sweet
sweet candy for the soul that you confect so well. Why, sir Bird, do
you like to bring the pain and hardship down on yourself like that when you're so good
at helping others feel they can conquer the world? Just play for me, just play.
Just play your movin smoothin groovin sax till the air
becomes a liquid that we can float and sail on. I know you can, Charlie,
I know you can do it. You've done it so many times before,
I know you can.
Nothing but a fringer
A tag along easy crush
"Would you like me if" jerk.
The circle formed and stable.
There's no room for a "could I please?"
"No I never" to find a place.
The fringe of the Fringe
The sub of the Sub
Has difficulty finding an Honest Talk.
Easy find of hushed words and
Sidelong glances and "hey, why don't you..."
One actual Honest-Talk-Sub-Fringe-Human
Steps up to and not on...
But figuring, with the laws of
Kepler, Murphy, and Brahe
This moon already has/is a
Satellite spinning furiously.
Better not disturb that pull
Ought not test that force
But too close and gravity pulls.
A fringer pulled to the center of unbelonging.
But belong? No, Michael, wake up--life's
Not that easy, not that simple.
Talk. Can't talk, fringe in my mouth.
Join in. Cant break the circle may
It be unbroken...blessed be the
Tie that binds--necktie, the hands.
Onward Christian Slater, shoot
A briefed jock in the neck.
Development has been arrested, but
So has most of the circle be unbroken.
Subfringer has no flax golden tales
To spin with shaded shady black hat
Holding ink blots on cardboard paper.
No sir, no ma'am.
Please add your current to the stream of consciousness here...
[edit on 7/6/2010 by Chamberf=6]