The Progression Concept

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inspired from the dark city, us as them.

in an old chair…

 house is my house,

the dust is mine.

the dog’s hair is from my dog…

this organ,

C G F Bb

 

this is the summer’s poem, this is the coffee shop side walks, this is the sun in my eyes.

 this is to loitering… this is the summer’s poem.

 thank you in advance.

+++

///

They, as humans shape the city @ will.

by our sleep, they find us.

by our leisure, life is traded.

within mere seconds…

time

still, then sped.

things are indeed changing…

our leisure has robbed us of muscle, has taken…

the humanity from the bones of us humans.

we    are      them

usasthem.

___.:***werthealiens***:.___

 

we have evolved

indeed let them say

let them chatter

let worlds change at the will of one

let this.

.THIS.

prove

.

(the choir chants in an unsetteling unison)

“and as our mind and chemicals expanded, our greed , and natural elements thrived.  

we never knew the concept of time travel.

us as enemies - we’ve been traveling this whole time.”

 

we have been fighting

ourselves.

In this consciousness,

the one in which i am aware of, and step towards…

in this world,

 i have changed my shape.

i am a shape shifta.

 

tonite, as i lie in leisure…

i was pushed back into position like whiplash.

like craft or chess games.

like beeing    in   check.

   (the choir stopped singing…)

natural dissonance

 

again

 

 i was shafted.. some one else has been playing me.

i was a star to them.

(moment, recline. breath in THIS breath.)

 

they couldn’t find our souls, we hid them in the garden.

We would not be deprogrammed!

Understand, we have been programmed,

and the shepherds are coming!

this is ground,

this is science, these blades have been photosynthesized.

 the file polarized.

 +

in the end.

through pictures

and images of pictures

purposed was *programmed in a single syringe.*

contained here, in palm.

in the beginning,

our destiny was inaudible,

non visual and tasteless.

 our palms

 

couldn’t grab this one.

 

(dig)

what has shaped me?

what has shaped you, reader?

we flash to spit and blush the surface.

we realize new levels and pages

and present.

we start,

meet people , then meet them again.

sometimes, us…

we’re covered in mercy, sister.

 

+++

 

God, heal my arms.

 ©2008 Jonathan DeLucia, all rights reserved

 

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