constellation prize

when cells disband, may they turn to sand,
indifferent and fine, timed by moon and sun
emotions flooding
words are written sand is blown
time is knitted mocking birds flown
against the grain of the draft
flown underground on a craft of mist
babies grown to soldiers fists
as personal as the sun
victims, they will hurt you
presiding over a surgeon's curfew
insurgents donating livers to explode the patients of an enslaved rock
mother nature is a terrorist, coming like a green eyed tiger, pouncing from the jungle on our humble farm of factories, recreation, phylacteries, trying is futility, bend your bones to keep up with the guns, climb your mind faster than the vines of time, or youll fall behind
electric shocks from factory clocks biding your time for you
causing effects fissures fusion
breaks a glass illusion of fear instilled
by a mill on the hill of desperation, shouted from a bullhorn like a
presiding man's dedication to being a mocking bird, making love with pain, dissecting your nerves like a bug
mocking birds making love
never touching, singing vines
into fine glass waking wine
crying silver tomorrows cast into the past
slowing fast the war drum rythm
trailing coattails of blood and oil for golden coils
recrenation, the mirror lies
the tv tries
to be the terminator
mother natures incubator
turned up too high
for all the passion sons made from sand and clay
they wanted you to find a way to see
your spiritual destiny,
because they never could, and the mirror lies
the tv tries to get you in the army
starving you through poverty
beating the drums with terrorist guns
insurging rituals of boiling oil, spent on your blood and caramelized
reincarmanation, elating umbilical vines
fighting against the draft with cloaks of degredation
and the mirror lies
matt