Those synthetic others are golden pieces
advertisements of fulfillment
where hot stuffed filling
rises like clouds from chthonic prompts
The under-verse votes against the others
their cherry vehicles driving with destiny
reaching untaxed government closures
and rich pieces of crispy dream puffs
War is a day by day drudgery of work
with biological concerns topping out
chemical formulae on installment plans
slipping over horizons that disintegrate
Rainfall incessantly flows away
washing residues toward unplanned gutters
moving mud and debris
before the appearance of starry nights
Next year the galaxy is discovered
on the edge of mega clusters of swirling stuff
providing opportunity for imagination
even if the world is rough
Spirit is closer than a heartbeat away
for each and every other’s fluff
need be drawn to reason
while there is light in the day.
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