tentacle

posted on December 20, 2011 at 11:27 pm

advice from a caterpillarnew shot

 

who speaks thru me i am asking myself

only the thin reedy voice of the future drowned out by a noisy past

my poured ears

my tendered arc

we reach dimensional nebulae that unfold by intuition

inside each burst lies the entropy it negates

oh western spirit stumped by paradox

who is it then who speaks through me?

i am the tiniest voice you will never hear 

says something lodged deep in here hiding in fear

babylon sirius at the feet of the sphynx

the island that sinks

its people however risen

we emerge from a strange past drowning us out

we never remember anything at all after its over

but its ingrained and brained  into you

then though you feigned innocence no inner sense

as if you saw for yourselves the realms of the dead

not just the tombstones and flowers all around