On top of Green Acres April �04
Music fills my space
������ A fight for company upon strangers, species unknowing
So much being the avoidance of thought
Entertainments of movies, of lectures, of you
������ Get the information. Think later
Thinking is being is creating is meaning is my reason
An automaton
������ Mr. robot man finds himself on top of a pile of nothingness�
�Out of breath. Asleep while awake.
A limited time
������ A bell screams. Times up
Minutes and hours and repetition
������ My mindless distraction
Its place is the pit where combustion has its meal
Find the latter
���� Lift right left thigh . sit on top. Thinking rock������
The expedition for questions
���� For happiness and depression
All put in one box
The ants will climb their tree
�� �Leave their gifts and hide away
And I think:
��� I will give O2. I will give compassion.�
��� A smile when tickled.� I will give a propagated life.
��� I will give warmth in crowds. A stick of gum
But eyes they look and look
��� For open doors in other beings
Whiteness so bright I search for black
Yell with clenched fists at the leader
Look to your left and right and see the same color
Still thinking:
A mixture of worlds
���� with razors poking everywhere
Hold the blender on still till further instruction
Until a melodic hymn vibrates in sync
And no cries heard just music��