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Head On
As does clash
this frequency
of world congestion.
Bracing for
another injection
of clairvoyance.
All presuming
entire prosperous
inherent risk.
We race
toward a brick wall
smashing all realities.
The elevators
of shifting platforms
take us upward.
Scratching
at the itch
brings cold remains.
In a frivolous
dexterity
life claims
our churning delight.
Rushing another
glimpse of paradise.
We the specks
of righteous gods
may prevail.
This headlong
uncooperative manifestation.
Brings malice upon
lighted spaces.
We burn
in substances of time
headlong into
darkened horizons.
We all come to know
the illusions
of forbidden
woes.
The clock will chime.
poem
by
Jodde Taylor
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