Flesh Industrious

A Poem by Davidgeo

.

voiding morning

welcome to my pure folk lore

written antiquity

in American text fleshy filthy

from the gently

viewing way

we see herds upon herds

of disbeilevers dying

and grazing

in false spirits

high spirits

in the vain of "Cherokee hair tampons"

land livers

failed modern humans

working vanity machines

a philosophy of health

it is not so dangerous to be alive

but if adventurous

put some clothes on

all climate attacker

with no hair on

built for nothings

ready for all emergencies

without clothes on sometimes

willing to fight in any sort of manner

through the most perilous of encounters

feed shame into the wind

given the fair chance

and some deep breaths

the air everywhere is like soil

every breath a drink of water

and the flora

then fauna

like our fertilizer

for the very reddest

of our blood

to survive

into dried leftovers

the waking dead

(in no need of focus)

the unafraid

without clothes on

the meatloaf at the end of the rainbow

the tip of the peak

or maybe just another top of the morning

how do you do it?

i'm forgotten; tabula rasa

after today's repetition

and tonight one of many

deeply machinistic dreams

repetition

and s**t

i never remember

it's how i do it

© 2016 Davidgeo

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Nessly

Reading this piece while listening to Loreena McKennitt's "The Gates of Istanbul" made for quite an interesting read. I love the first line of the second to last stanza. I read it as ending a day with how it began, repetition/routine, even though we have a fresh start each morning (we're wiped clean, basically). Every day feels like a rerun, even our dreams seem the same. I read the second line of the last stanza as referring to not remembering (or being able to recall) one's dreams or perhaps one's day-to-day living. Life does seem to run together after awhile. Lovely writing. Beautiful, as always.