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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3792 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention .5 Philip Z. Chaskov An empty glass bottle Rests on my table top Next to a pad of paper A dumpster for my thoughts unfinished sentences And free range beliefs Sometimes I live in the abstract The glass bottle rests on the table, contemplating The writing on its label From the inside out The pad of paper Sits, crushed Under the weight of my heavy words and I am energy Making a conscious attempt to slow down And explode into light Through my fingertips and eyeballs Slowly combusting Shattering the glass bottle and igniting the pad of paper Sometimes I live in a blank perception of reality I don't know where my socks are My mom is getting pissed again I drive my car over bridges Over bridges Over concrete graveyards To get to where I want to go Only to return I much prefer the abstract To this hexadecimal playground Everything reduces down to 1's and 0's Everything and nothing Plus one Minus one What about .5? |
