On the one hand
We stand on shoulders
Stuffing facts with our minds
And vice versa
Whereas on the other
We rot in cages
That divide our minds
From our bodies.
Giant what
Soppy sceptic
We meditate
Open our minds
Which in return
Flush into our blood
Addictive opiods
Yet this is not seen
As being well understood
Finding the way
Sitting in Tavistock Square
Deciding whether it is
The correct measure
To be making decisions
On how to handle
This situation
Yet at the same time
Feeling the threat
Of missing opportunity
Because of deem-acting
The syndrome of change
Must occur
What we seek
Has been found
As expected
As usual
In the form
We try to escape
Free people
Float out
Resist returning
Only confirming
And instilling
The reoccurence
Saddening in thought
Deep and familiar
In impact, yet
Circumstances remain
Leaving purity
And shared knowledge.
Fateful encounter
The cycle repeats
Meaning time has come
Factors remain suspended
So fate will reoccur.
Making the right call
The eternal dilemma
Instincts battle logic
The environment intervenes
Choosing wrong affects
The chances of being right
Next time around
The backdrop evolves
Take a late encounter
At a taxi stand
Will she, won’t she
Consequences multiply
Watching myself
Being watched
Forming opinions
That might not exist
In her mind
Chances are
As things are
Fate will reoccur.
My belle
Big beautiful roses have long stems
Hormones and selective breeding
Growing the body mine desires
Yet tainted by this falseness
Irony. Symbolism. Lesson.
But it’s unlearned.
Nothing is known.
Like why is it I find
The odd one out special
An exception to the rule
Falling into a finite band
Whose boundaries obstruct
One side says she’s the one
Whereas the other enumerates
Long lists of components
Hormones and selective thinking.
