mardi 5 février 2008

The Folder

The folder
For want of originality
The freedom of tracing an original
unconfined, unincumbered line

He sought
under his sun and moon
shelter from
rigid bindings
plastic files
white out
paper clips
and folders

Such was his life
ziz zagging the untrodden
followin the Whim as supreme order
the improvised scatt
a tra-la, a la-tra

In merriment he fondered avoiding cartesian thought
"The universe existed and that was that"
Unknowingly his fuse burnt down
and as the comb rakes through the hair
setting what is unset
renewing a lost alignment
he was faced with a choice:

Living in the fog or saying "adieu" abstration
His eyes swelled with tears
Because in his world deemed with no sense
being the last bastion gave him no honor
He sang out "Humpty Dumpty"
as he reached for a paper-clip.
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