Showing posts from July, 2017

Ghost-Birds And Satellites

I sit... In the tepid nonchalance of reality With the pulsating sting of mortality The universe, yet to answer my queries Of to whom I exist and why The ambivalence of life beyond this From afar... I've watched fellow mankind In algorithms of normalcy Writhing in traps of grandeur Liberated yet chained to The diseased American Dream I ponder... Oh, great creator, will I ripple?! Quake beneath their streamlined paths?! Silly me. Silly me The universe hasn't time for queries It's occupied with wrecking itself Hours on... In the pastel haze of liquor Amid ghost-birds and satellites I realize - that the answer Is not worthy of the question So I'll count fireflies instead Forgive me. I've digressed. It's 9:03 a.m. now I'm late for work (c) 2017 Esteban Luis Soto