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A Poeish Poem?

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Published on Dec 3, 2008

Sitting perched upon the days end
What will spite the plight and rot the wraith of thought
Couldnt idea one kill idea two?
But then Im left with an anarchy of subsystems overthrown by powers before

It is in deed a deed worth death
For the thought of thought is quite enticing
To look right through hearing and smell beyond taste in vast contemplations that have no measure

Now inside an instigation of intrigue
Instills the illness of idea
And its ideas inside this mind
Controls the path I go

A waste of time, may I say
But chained I stay inside this way
The way I like, the way I learn, I kill, I birth
The way I need to thought, the way I need to think
The way ideas roll and play like children in spring upon gass thats green with bliss of sun and rain encased throughout the moments

So sit and stroke the egos egg
This golden one will birth the path
And on its birth I see, the abomination of me
And go to kill another thought, an idea that came to rot its ugly face
It burns on the floor, in blood it dies,
Now from the ashes
Two arise

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