Grey matter
does it?
I think not therefore I am
I am not thinking
who cares if I can
merely dreaming reality
sleeping wastes time
beyond any function
fabrication, distortion and time
history spits out death and the things of the past
who, when, date of the lives that have passed
religious wars
God? What God would ignore
the death and the dyeing the old and the poor?
clocks measuring each second of my stupidity
hoping that my life will soon end peacefully
with one sweet breath of synthetic air
to relieve me from my holographic nightmare
and pollute their non-existent strategy
while the earth spins round
In a list
Comments
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oh he truly had a way with words.. I don't think that I''ll ever get over the way he thought about some stuff
.. he always had a firm grip on reality as well as fantisy!
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I really like the fluidity of this poem, the way words morph into other words (function into fabrication, past into passed, etc.), sayings cave in on themselves (I think not therefore I am), and the way the entire poem second guesses itself as it unfolds. The start of this poem (does grey matter matter?) starts the momentum of questioning that continues throughout the entire poem.
Good job, thanks for sharing.
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