Further Ado
What is the cost of breaking through?
Which are the signs of letting go?
What does it do to you,
understanding Homo sapiens
as herds of cells and bacteria,
flowing about
with synapses lighting up
like glowworms
on this bewitched rock,
swirling between the stars,
casting shadow plays of morality
and consideration;
the freak side-effects
of an all more complex mix
of molecules,
among which we eagerly locate
our selves,
claiming identities we marvel at
and mistake
for the center of everything;
this fleeting, flowing, fidgety outlook
of matter on itself;
the random effect of the goings-on
of elements
ejected
from supernovas
See the sparks
of a piece of flint
being struck,
starting this flare of mind games
on lofty abstraction levels,
out of the raw, cut-throat essence
of the cosmic experiment
which I watch from the bleachers,
waining away;
a mosquito whining
through the back of my room,
these letters slowly fdng awy
t dsppre
nto th dtnce
My thoughts are skimming reality,
soon to veer off
into further ado
Yes, I know I'm late
for Charon Air,
but I believe I'll get on board
anyhow,
despite the long lines
at Security
Something is creeping across the roof,
the tin creaking and crackling
but it's just the temperature changes
as summer clouds pass across the sun
Something is creeping across my mind, though;
a stray thought
having made a successful jailbreak,
carrying an insight
that has flowered out of order
and appeasement
I stare at the plaster
where my wrist watch should be
The world gives off a soughing sound,
the sum of all that is and ever was;
a white noise that contains everything,
like colour white contains all colours
My body is an estimation,
a summation
of a long-lasting here;
a try for the sun
that strays into endless marshlands;
acid water gurgling 'round my boots,
my eyes full of dreams;
reflections of a backyard youth
in a soap bubble
I bleed on my bed linen
in my sleep;
mosquitos having sunk their tubes
into my skin
to suck up my blood,
causing me to smash the winged werewolves,
splashing my blood
all over the sheets
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
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Written on 2022-06-15 at 11:28
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