Friday, February 3, 2012

02-03-12 Lost Notebook In Paris

Precious brain dead memories on parade
displayed with faithful romantic passion
at the bottom of an empty whiskey bottle

Obliged to write it all down
in some sort of insane language
on pages stained with red wine like blood

Scribbled in singular flowing lines without breaks
kind of like long majestic snakes winding around
sideways slanted repeating in loops before rewinding
fast forward then stopped to play and record

In calculated combinations of thoughts or phrases
which can neither be destroyed nor created
when it seems we are all bearing witness
to the true murder of artistic expression

In danger of being resurrected and exploited
faithfully executed in eerie premonitions
which appear to be more like expectations

Hunted in the streets chanting haunted prayers
with obscene poetry scrawled in a tortured script
reflecting upon strange summertime obsession
in anguish over painful waves of heartache

Carefully translated then completely crossed out and abandoned
as though it never even existed except in the imagination
of it's own creator left stranded searching for inspiration

As the warm morning light filtered in
across the room along the hardwood floor
until suddenly in a moment of clarity
it all came to life like a religious epiphany

Finally in tune with the universe
Famous last words





  

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