Long and Away Toward the Precipitous Past

Corporate lendings of analytical blendings gone by

But of where do they lie?

They heed not the caustic organizing of leaf-strewn boulders

Nor do they perpetuate long gone

Toils of tantrums left unbeknownst

But, what they’re really after is you

Yes you

You who dauntingly and unceasingly defy their grants of kindness

Who know nothing of defying what has been given as gone

You who would stop at nothing

Nor break down heaven’s steel doors of dampened bookshelves

 

But now I have a surprise for you

Its waiting in the doorway of freedom’s left hand

It’s here in front of you and you have not a care

Lifting one hand and dripping of silver

The lost learning of left-lobbed locusts

Have penetrated the ensemble

And dropped numerous names of such

Who have every which way into your heart.

 

Oh darkened blobs darting onward

Creaking deftly down empty staircases

Do you know who turns the knob

Do you care or have you resigned yourself

To more fruitier outsets yet unknown to your footmen?

 

It hardly surprises me to the extent

To which you come to me so sadly and gladly

Could you be flashes or remembrances of the future

Or are you really just who you presupposed you were

No one will ever know.

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