The place of thought's
Places without thought
No idea
The words seem to endlessly
Flow from secret place
I cannot discover.
Thousand of ideas
Ramble, mash, and twist
To form this thought
That pac mans around my
Brain
What is it?
The the shadow that is in the
Hand
The empty promise of the moment
And all we are left with is the
World gone mad
The world got lost and stumbled
Into oblivion . . . And the beat plays on.
June 16/11
1 comment:
Which of my two selves is thinking? Which one sees the world of maya?
In Lak' ech, brother confessor Lenon; "love is the answer and you know that for sure..."
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