Byline: Reflecting Fire
Mass becomes mist in the great night, leaving nothing but crisp trails of varying detail allowing the earth and moon to make magnificent shadows.
The voice of apocalypse speaks with a tribal drum beat. Systems of knowledge and emblems of fear update echoes revealing disenchantment with the human condition.
Only in paradise are men judged on the courage of their imaginations, their consistency in concept and their elaborate bag of tricks. From the formless, the poet as madman emerges intent on producing authenticity in the city.
An aura of doom no longer dignifies the legend but there is dignity in spite of guilt. The story of your sins is not new and not news. Historical blunders have endless precedent. The deception of personification still finds its students who make quick work of gleaning meaning from the rough spots.
Respecting history and clear vivid language is the noble move. Dip your steak in the wine and savor the drunken protein. Live your criteria and don't critique what you can't corroborate.
If you want a story with a happy ending sometimes you have to stop in the middle. Don't believe me, go ask Oedipus Eddie and Electra Edna. Find out for yourself how dangerous it is when you're hypnotized by pictures in the fire's flame.
Graffiti is the reflection of fire, it's what happens when magnetism versus hype and comes out on top.
Subcontractors out to submerge the world search for honor in the bottom of a bottle. With a buzz on, the hero comes to accept that sometimes there's little difference between a night and a lifetime. Most lifers and short timers are hip to the reality.
In backyards and corner bars a new generation reinvents nostalgia. Defined by his audience, the writer tries to trip the narrative by exposing a past in the present for future consumption and consideration.
Hitching your whip to a star is cool idealism but make sure you saddle your dreams before you ride them.
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