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trying to run away

by Matthew Sharp

clone jesus from the shroud of torin
another man,
born into reign
and what one hopes will be responsible guidance
they bow to him and heed to feed his strengthened will
he's cloned before death...
another man is born... again.
born into a life of unimaginable responsibility
his genetic bloodline screams knowledge of its plight to him
he heals with truth, honor and compassion through an abominable will
into
the
future
thousands of clones in the process
he has seen with all his senses what all the physical body can take in and observe
seeing through the spiral eye of awareness from small to large over and again
the repetitive conditioning accelerates growth of will
and develops the ability to take it all in at all times
in effortless thoughtless awareness

with will he hears into our hearts and grooms the limbs of our ancestrial tree
no longer a physical body
just etheral will dominating the will of those unaware of its selfish plight to infect the host and replicate.
cultures' moralistic ideals the operating system shaped by its application
carving the mold with processing updates
this.. now a gluttonous monster
holding the will of enough people to kill us all when it dies of old age, poor health or injury

clashing with organic shadows that see me, see them
they choose to feed or flee
or be taken by my will
taking what once belonged to me before it ventured in disease
i clean the cup and refill the universe with nothing
so something will happen when i'm fishing for pieces of myself
finding new pieces i never knew existed
the puzzle never put back together
because it was never taken apart
the hands of apathetic disease
were burnt in the will of fire and trapped in derogatory ice
fed temptation to wade in the water of instantaneous eternal freeze
to be shattered into dusty infinity
to fall and seed and come back stronger
to face me inside of my sons and daughters
and things yet to come that already exist in the equation
but not in our calculation

sitting in open time ignoring spherical clocks thrown like frisbees
into the me, the black hole of stretchy everything
trying to run away on a wheel
that keeps coming back.

09/02/2007

Author's Note:

Posted on 09/02/2007
Copyright © 2021 Matthew Sharp

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Meagan Green on 10/30/07 at 02:25 AM

I didn't see this one... random one I picked to read from this folder. It's excruciatingly good. I can't find words to describe it. Hope things are okay for you in that long expanse of human stain over there. Dude.

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