Ideomotor

We are but prisoners 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.

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 sleepwalking helicopter
Gracefully deceased.

Beauty, it makes the blind weep.
To describe a song in color
is a portrait's symphony.

(Bang head here...)

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.

Suicidal swans
We're silence, in throats we creep
You'll know us by the shaking ground
When ideas emerge from the deep.

Suicidal swans
We're silence, in throats we creep
You'll know us by the shaking ground
When ideas emerge from the deep.

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.