I'll Scramble the Poem, You Write the Eggs (feat. jube jube)

Posted by Erik Moshe on Monday, February 4, 2013 Under: Poetry

In other words, you create.

Jazz background atmosphere, static tube radio
Without any work, downtown movies swinging clubs
Filled mega large– and then we part our ways.
Happens anyway, choices weighed, left in sofa king mattress
Sipping lemonade. Living pelican bay every day.
Enough of the serenade, let’s go back to the old ways.


Let’s go back, back to the vitruvian turntables
Must, break, few eggs, to. get. to. pulp matter
The occult shatters.
Forcibly entering into another hazy day on the magnum opus
Island leviathan
Clanging and trumpeting down the hall
of forgetfulness
of secretive substances
Hitting you in the center of the panhandler’s galaxy
Through rhythm’s eye

Washroom-cleansed carpet shawls, drapery <- I hate that word
Songs like this make you wonder about life.
What a nice, concept- religion, the grand schemer
As if he was fooling us all, meditation!
Collab on life, no hesitation, no insinuation.
Wind chimes singing in the background, what do you do?
Accept the prophet missionary, emissary?
Or silence again, and return to the gardens?

I think… I don’t know but I probably do.
It’s like a novel from Dr. Seuss, but not obtuse
Count, tip-toe red fish, blue
Dracula moved about the corridor
in barracuda slippers -
Sign reads: Beware the Cuban Ripper
But look past the yield, jack the cornerstone
And refit it into the Earth- The way I want you to

Like the eggs?

In : Poetry 

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