I’ve long loved the Land.
I’ve loved it all I can.
I consume her feasts, I hunt her beasts, & I call myself a man.
What am I?
-&
There was once a connection I had to the concept of Hope.
Hope, personified, to help me Cope.
The Hope Cope.
Not unlike the bench of Hope, seen here, in Ireland. You can find my grave nearby, if you know how to see the sea with your feelings, and return back to me.
-&
I’ve found the desert to be more erotic than I was reared to believe.
The lies of the lack of foundation on the silty sands of the West.
I personally, find preservation of such facets of the land to be admirable.
(Is this still a poem, kid?)
Hell if I know, but that landmark was askin’ for it.
-&
I am not afraid of the View.
Who, who who.
Who would be afraid,
Of such a pretty view?
-&
Perception for sale:
($100, open to negotiation)
High quality occular observations on offer. Obtained over orchids of ordinary, ordained then obtained by my eye. Contact me if you are curious.
-&
Gender is the gentrification of genitalia.
But alas, I am a homo.
A homo sapien&, sapien&.
We decided to say it twice, because it was so nice,
To divide ourselves across such lines,
That condition our consciousness to the collective psychosis of modern society.
-&
Sometimes the only way complex thoughts can come out of you is if you put yourself into complex situations, but how often do you?
-&
Sometimes you wake up and realize that no one remembers you for you, they remember you only through the lens of their own perceptions. They can try to tell you about yourself, but they always end up tattling on themselves by the end of it. Because how can I hurt you this deeply with 3-5 words yet you’ve never once asked me a personal question or shown any interest in my depths? Hmmmn.
-&