let me tell you of the raven's sins.

Reading: thoughts that do not shine.
Listening to: nineties alternative radio.
Last watched: How to Get Away with Murder.
Mood: desecrated.
2014 September xx, 1:27 AM.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Windmill in the Sky

Every melody of a highway vehicle
oils our overused city. Buses honking
unholiness. People slightly shimmering
under the sky. Milky warm pollution
makes habitual love with the sun.
Yellow corrupting the greeneries
cupping butterflies. The blackness
of the birds. Their valiant isolation
discounting my kind. A windmill,
the very symbol of old colonialization,
spirals its red-white-blue arrogance.
Always to the right. To where
all the goodness go. I rock my chair
to that untamed squeaky spring.
Flirting with countless orange
koi fishes four floors below. Were I
one of them... always lulled
by the thickness of slimy pond water.
They, too, dream to fly. Like us.
The little worker ants moving up
and down in our metal elevators.
How tall can our skyscrapers be?
How tall must we build
to reach Heaven? Dirt everywhere.
In our eyes, our brains, our lungs.
Grimy soot enfolds our skin.
Monochrome, still-life bright,
we hoist our red-white flag
celebrating its victory. We ripped
its native blue once, and we will
do it again a thousand times.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012, 10:47 AM – 12:02 PM

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Do you dare disturb the Universe?