Angelo Vasquez

HERD MALFORMS. By Angelo Vasquez

Riddles of a Sphinx, faith in a word,my lack of faith sets the sun watching the widdershins of the gnomon, how I crave the past…the contents of the work is always left behind without exception engravings carve on hollow minds the pain of the thought a reality based on emotion and where can I go?Where can I be?How long will this last?The pyramids fall on my skin…a false relation,reaching down to you serpents I forsake balance and fall within…I’m dying,its cold inside …this pantheon, the eye of the storm,the walls are thin and the ceiling is caving in with the kind that can’t think at all we begin to drop in with them forever reaching for interpretives on display to manifest a simple way its not the way,strengthen the fences weakly standing in the scene the radiancy of created measures the forgotten inbetween.Perception, thinking conception, past present future ,birth life death and with thinking, present and life as the mediums of all things,still we lie around nailed to the burial grounds with every sign hammered in the ground ,slow down,wrong turn,dead end,stop! Every wound in battle a birthmark of life, scars have a different tone of flesh a new texture developed,memories,experience and lessons learned…though how many involuntary deaths until you get them?How many words have to strike true to get through to you?How many ships will you wreck?How many will you abandon?And in all verse nothing yet.Another testament,a new translation?It takes death to understand, to kill for faith…to die in vain…this herd is worse it should burn in shame.

Angelo Vasquez
CDC #G07505

Categories: Angelo Vasquez

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