Laugh at me, I dare you. My brain storm alone could wash you away in its infinite water.
We are aspects of antiquity, members to a cast written for irony like christian mythology.
We are pilgrims, and heretics, and lovers.
We are the rise of the creative class, no crystal stair, but every man a king.
As if we were an era of russian ballet, but choose to be wizards from the upper amazon.
These african americans in the city of angels, eyes wide, taking in the white mans "racial pride" to the extent of conforming to importance.
Sailing on an armada from athens, we are the women of caesars.
Passion and politics reigning the same bed.
There is no place for costume in birth, marriage, or death.
Please say something, soldier of the army I describe. Please lay on me some element of a lie, I am an honest whore in the lying cathedral of the real world.
Please dont tell me that that's dancing.
YOU ARE READING
More Ryhme des mots
PoetryThe reckless optimist creates sunbeams With Archimedes death rays That they do believe will result in lovely sunsets. (And most everybody burnt to a crisp is not in favor of this method.)
