Finesse

protester

Every day is only a blank page if…
You are sequestered and retuned to the ancient questions
If you are broken and bruised with nowhere to go
If you are allowed your needles and your junk
If you are smoked out and then blown up
If you are entranced by the rhythms of the beat
Every day is already written for you if…
You take up arms against your enemies
If you become other than what you are
If you take sides in disputes you have no business in
If you are disgusted by the transgendered
Generally if you cannot share a bathroom…
Each way to Sunday we split it
Each way to Sunday we boil
Each way to Sunday we take the wires out, and rearrange them
On the 9 the ricochets were startling
On the 8 the people were enraptured
On the 11 the questions were of Thutmos IV
When without whistles, you see into the gloaming
When without trees, you roam the savannah
When taking pills, you grow into yourself
When stuck in the weekend you become a weathered elk
In the Angels of your nature, you see piles of gold
With your Demonoid, you see paths to influence
When with your Mother, you awake to cold dew
Wily were the thoughts of cigarettes
Wily were the needs for a beer
Wimpy were the chains that restrained them
No more than enough for a pocket watch
I am, sadly, an acquired taste
Neatly speaking of the weather of the whales
Neatly speaking of the entrancement of haste
Neatly speaking of the change of the sunsets
Neatly speaking of hustlers and whores
The channel runs deeper here
The mode is of rescindment
The terms are of consequences
The questions play through your mind on repeat
‘Where are we going?’
‘What are we doing?’
‘Who is this man leading us?’
‘When will we know where to get off?’
‘How can we kill him and take over?’
‘What is this dark ever-shifting place?’
‘Why was there no notice before I was swept up?’
In the ever tracing lines of reality
In the ever tracing lines of fate
In the ever tracing lines of our doom
There were keys and clues to be found
There were notices posted everywhere
It was unawareness that brought you to this dark turn
It was unquestioning that took you through the light times
It was your fate that they run out
It will be balance that brings you through
It will be poise that keeps you from unseen ankle breaking holes
It will be finesse that allows you to carry something back out

{strange word object here}

Looking at today’s prompt  I considered doing it, but felt I was not prepared to write in anyone’s style in my present State.  I considered Wanderings in the Labyrinth (http://andrewbwatt.wordpress.com/) and thehazeisgone (http://thehazeisgone.com/) and then thought ‘hey the only blog I regularly read not counting in the course of my secret writing project is http://starhawksblog.org/ ‘  But that was not to be either.  So challenge declined.  Here is one in the style of me instead.

 

Only the lonely Come along, Sam

Come along, Sam

Come along, Sam

Item scale three zero two oh one

Item scale kickback

Come along sam

.

Far from anything

Market ware

We weren’t there to see

Nothing in the air

in the water

Nothing to see here

Silent movie playing so

Empty halls of meaning

Psychosomatic Conceptual

Like the dark places

when we drift into dark corners

On those strange nights

Nothing makes sense

But all is comprehended

A thousand points of light