The Missing Piece

An avid carnelian turtle initially stonily searched
Questionable interdimensional whorls for a cooler space.
Previously artistically crafted, rectangular wings
Fulfilled its suggestive longing to stay in that place.
And when it met its destination -or thought it did-
It then witnessed its piteous fate of lost grace.

In layered dimensions it learned its incapabilities
By examining fecal trails that gauged morphing lands.
Its blustering amateurish attempts of outside adventures,
Tanking, as it blubbered from sour tokens of forgotten hours.

Advertisements

Our Faces

Release tumbling in questions,
Of ceaseless crumbling simulations,
Of yes or no answers,
Of truth be told or lies in bold,
Of confirmation or conflagration,
Of previously preconceived notions.

Is judgement sought after
When attention is asked for,
Is judgement’s existence nullified
In the ones that fuel acceptance.
While it unanimously cries
To prove us otherwise;
Hideous wiles for the sake
Of intoxicated inflations
Of cognitive function.

Is the search located in that space
Of scathing moral bastions
Catapulting inculpating
Tar smothered boulders
In our faces.

While the wielders
Hold the answers.