The secret and sublime
Phlegmatic, massively ornate
Like a brown flower
In its remains
Stalk drooped to reveal
A brown withered flower
A tiny bit of nothingness,
Its bud open to reveal
A
Deficiency
In
Pollen

The
Source
Of
Power
Stems
From a single lever
A button
A trigger
Like a zealous dictator, an unyielding foreign alien
Struggling to gain control of the planet

I once observed a man
Tall, beefy, with a touch of a tan
And a polo shirt paired with soiled
Flip-flops
loudly chuckling
But look closer
And his sunken eyes
Revealed unimaginable pain
As he violently kicked stones
Sent them flying into
The atmosphere

The stones seemed to linger of passion
Because of this adequacy of
Painful Laughter
And something bigger; though I’m still unsure what

The secret stigma of the screen leaves the folders
An ornery, archaic gray
Where
Truth is
Delineated by Picture
Young girls with pursed lips, perfect hair
Struggle to resist laughter

“You can only change things you can control.”
Spidery handbags are affectionate with my kneecaps

Illustrious men with culture and learning
A cigarette butt at the end of his lips
A crooked derby
Caress the women

Rotund creatures must stand up
tall and grasp
with outstretched hands
the throbbing noise
Of silence

I am a lie
I am a painful truth
I saw a swing
old and rusted
Unobtrusive
A frayed rope was knotted on the plank
in an attempt to make the two sides
symmetrical
A blackbird perched on his makeshift throne.
I knelt in consternation
in awe

The jawing screams
Catapult from my diaphragm
When my sister learns

to fly

Jealousy manifested
into my smells
the aromas of searing anger, burnt rubber, dusty furniture, baked nourishment, chloride oppressors, an undercover joke
Isn’t it funny how often the world fails to understand itself?