MCaesar: "Soft Earth"
August 10th, 2004, 02:16 PM
he pounds a fist on the ground to relax and feel the tones
as they shake each limb and vibrate through his bones/
and for a moment it's payback, just like the rest of his loans
for the second his heart beats with the pulse of his poems/
doesn't know where he's goin', but it looks like a farm/
with no people or crops, just scarecrows sharing an arm/
and they're playing his song, painted black, in the forest/
his chest heaves, as deeply as he believes in the chorus/
the sky's unpoetic, and the sea's nothin' impressive/
in a nearby grave nature is robbing his investment/
defensive, frightened, life doesn't make you stronger
when senses are heightened, the drop just gets longer/
and he's got a...blue collar that he threw in the tar pits/
they'll find a fossil fuel and a manual in his carcass/
"we'll know what to do, when the heavens crash into paradise/
when the smoke clears and all the smokers feel their lungs tear,"
as he used to say, or as he currently speaks in the pond
as he drags his bloody half like an overweight wand/
and there it is, just beyond the barn in the distance/
he takes that smell, which reminds him of infants,
virility, youth, all in an instance...
things that he missed while growing his footprints/
oh it irks him, you could say he's troubled to death/
and it gets under his skin like cold hands touching his flesh/
'cause nothing convinces the damned more than pain man,
and nothing wipes the slate off cleaner than rain can/
the journey is premature and the end is unfinished...
when the still streams are frozen and the underbrush is wicked//
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