wind and words

the wind is a sucker; chasing it's tail
indefinitely, finding cracks and alleys to run
through, corners to howl around, always
running after itself.

if you had a tail you would be
like the wind; always ahead of and behind
yourself, essence
of an incapturable moment, like sunlight.

if you were like sunlight, what would that mean?
would you glow with truth? hide behind clouds?
interfere at your feistiest times with electrical signals?
if you, words, were like sunlight, would you provide good
clean energy, or would you simply burn?

no, you are more like the wind
perpetually unaware of your beginning middle and end.
unaware of your own existence, unaware of the wars
fought, lives lost, treasures gained, thoughts shared.
you propagate yourself in a thousand dialects,
a thousand ways to say the same thing.

nothing, has ever, or will ever, change.
the wind will chase itself, words will pile up and mean nothing.
the sun will glow red and disappear, swallowing cultures, and people,
and planets.
the wind will still chases itself, and words will still pile up and mean
nothing.
nothing at the end of the world, will not know,
will ever know, and has ever known...

-

crockpot piss on a blackspot
your thought is nonstop
so cop-out and block
the nonsense you incensed fool.

-

if i were hamfisted
i'd buy a bag of peanuts
and see what that was like.

-

your lasso is a truth lasso
wonder woman
your lasso is a truth lasso
asshole.