Future Sculptures

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The oaken hypocrite

His vein pulsating

With vile blurring

Reoccurring memories

Of bruising recollection

His stony arms and lying

Tongue doesn’t hide

His oceanic eyes

Anger and Wrath so swift

For moments fleeting

The streamed controll

His wisdom a pittance

In his bountiful

Fake jests

For blood & gravel

The oaken stone-armed, jelly spirit man

Is a coursing shifting mirage

To all but me in

The rivers of now

And the floods of tomorrow

 

 

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