Ideomotor

We are but prisioners of waterfalls

We stand on broken ribs faces to the glass, we drown
Heavy mileage on our minds, we wrap the earth in cerebral folds.
And the corpse we carry really is a weight we’d like to throw.
We love the strange new animals, we love the fearful plants
But we all surrender turpentine to rid us of our pasts.
You would walk the rotten hillside, you would taste the clouds bellow.
But the world you walk is running water through valleys in palms of hands.
We all know we will be respected by greed and death and loathed by clarity.

Jettisoned
Emotions flood the banks the valleys overflow.
If only memory served us better, we could swim to dry our souls. We’re suicidal swans.
We’re silence, in throats we creep.
You’ll know us by the shaking ground
When ideas emerge from the deep.

Dolphins have more dignity.
A sleep walking helicopter, gracefully deceased.
Beauty makes the blind weep.
To describe a song color is a portrait’s symphony

The light drips on closed eyelids through holes in weathered sheets.
Curiosity stands up where strange faces hide and seek, swarming the webs of electricity
That dragnet the city; confusing power with duty in a place with trees like origami.
Monstrous theories dance with nightmares on the horizon absolute equinox.
Listening to history in the present, planets approach with lupine walks.

We’re suicidal swans.
We’re silence, in throats we creep.
You’ll know us by the shaking ground
When ideas emerge from the deep. (2x)

Offering flowers to the dirt like paralyzed dancers we decline and smile and flee.
But, with years of past devotion, the crushing atmosphere is bitter-sweet.

In my waterfall
Here, in earth, I’ll slowly Disappear.