The man merely muttered

Silk on sapphire
green on gold

The man mutters in his computer chair
He’s un-wrapping butterflies
and taking pictures of the wind
Peace Love uncompromisable

Chat show hosts
don’t blink in the adversity of events
projected thus from the almighty tube
distorted melody will cry in that shadow
Hate and angst skip hand in hand
unbroken lovers these
forever learning new depravity
The man still a chatting to no one
in particular with no place to go
is audibly free in his prison gaze
These lines aren’t to be free
They are caught bordered by the very page
that their created on
by the man who mutters them
into being

The smoke rises and falls
dancing its own brief history
of exhale and pause
before another jet is spewed forth
maybe mouth maybe nose

we all learn that we aren’t what we thought we were
always something else living between mirrors
and the vision of what we thought we knew

these tiny reflections of the self
we examine daily
turning over to examine the soft belly
probing and poking till there’s no mercy

disconnected but seeking connection
to make it somehow worth the confusion
of not knowing any universal truths

I want to throw a radio out the window
but my radio is digital and virtual
not physical just internally mental

but this is not unlike current thinking
information is captured
bloody and sweating without the real
anchor to be believed, or honest

true passion is the man muttering
without religion to speak in the night
of absolution and assertions
of all futures unwritten
with nothing certain

The clouds are just soggy mirrors reflecting sunlight
back to the true maker of wonder

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2 thoughts on “The man merely muttered”

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