The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers. (delascabezas) wrote,
The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers.

  • Mood:
  • Music:


Phrases that hinder an ebullience deep
rife with struggle to attain a mass exodus
from depths
I have not yet looked to my heart and

Rhetoric, hollow and undeep, is the yoke we all
hope to free
But how different that would render one,
Vulnerable to a majority;
You're not tenuous to be yourself, are

Ain't that typical
As if the only saviour to ridicule is to wash
our minds
clean of what comes naturally.

Not just what, but the words, the pent up
if not amour,
Oh, yes, congruence I do believe exists, it's
not a black or
white thing...

Fake, plastic (trees?), I judge not, lest I
be judged,
An honorable stance, but stand with me (on a
normal day)
I am no paragon of it's worthy lesson.

Back to the profundity because I can claim to
repel the phony
But it's a matter of supression, regression, to
proverbial rights and wrongs.

Are they right?
No, but listen not to the likes of my
ephemeral, vagrant

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.