The Acorn Harvest (35/05/0038 : 04.44.79)

I

I hear the machine talking nonsense

in its essence it's childlike

the banter it blames on my face

is the scent it sells in my place

to them in wish the hunger it comes

to purify the debt perfection had won

to mollify and eliminate

all lower life forms and decimate

into sole lonliness

death low cost debates

pure clean energy

fairy land

synergy

to dance in starlight the genius prates

in fallen ashen clouds over one year old

and the change of pace and scenery

II

Here I sit in an empty chair

squeaking the springs with real hair

torque of the physical world

spirit projections of disbelief

here real men they hurry

or women stealing in the night

the sleds of higher ranking men

and pasts of kings delight

somatic borrowed spiritual light

to conquer all kings to come

and in this empty chair

the humming of the furry arm

the guide I spell

and words all wrong

there is a delay in the marionette

and finding the story before it ends

far it will be fallen

and the shells are white and clean

because of the Clorox TM bleach

will I ever recover from these ancient secrets

being literate watching the wall and texts

creeping in

harvest

the forest of microcosmic delusions

relativistic spacial adheshion

the center of direction and life force

only eddy in one many