Mobe's days

The day's disdain shall never refrain from the pain that the rain will wash away. But tomorrows sorrow shall give cause to claim that today's was just yesterday's gain





This is a free thought process to which I intend to entertain and insiniuate debate and humor into what I consider a banal universe. I implore you to leave comment or critique and also to question my purposes if you so desire. It is my intent to invoke creative thought and even a new perspective, though I do not expect all to want the invasion of their minds for the duration of my soapbox. I will censor nothing, but cannot promise that it won't be at a higher desk. Enjoy!~mobe

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Allegorical Space

Allegorical Space~

clock watching spending time ticking and not liking the sound of my heart flicking in rhythmic stance to take a chance that I'll survive the dance of sorrows and solace.

we run so fast for time and treat and scurry along with tiny feet to a song and beat drummed on with not a care in the world which is no easy feat.

something has gone awry and amiss and aloft and atrocities that show what people do not and lazy is the idle mind for when the clock starts to unwind the dinging ringing clamor calls

spanse of sight and degree of flight to show great might what for no fright because the wind can send them in and do us again new summer win

breathes long lost at what a cost when mother cried for one who lied and shoved a letter supposed for better but decreed to all no place or ball but dungeon wall

time does change as life refrains and writes a name on window pane through foggy spew and morning dew we ask who knew what they just drew

a day will end with cause for rend to make you send a tear we lend an ear for song they that lived to long and not done wrong shall carry on

it is done they say this last one way may make us gray and wither down so clown is sad and on the ground for lover lost and not quite found

discussion nail within a pail of holes they wail shot through a sail on higher tide the skiff will glide and toss to side for horizon wide

buried at sea a sand bug flea on doggy knee covered fur and sir can I see her will you let her appear or must wait a new year when I go they fear as time grows near

to the last of centuries past and lifetime vast on sailor mast white sheet held high up to the sky our thought will fly on starry nigh

is all to have a few good laughs and dally dory through this whirl but pleasant dreams deny what seems and end to folly allegory

~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

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