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.
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.
Inspired by a drum beat
The downward spiral of keys
Harpsichord and accordion
Then cutlery, crockery clatter
A steam burst, milk froths
Closer still, individual voices
Fading in and out of range
Random and incessant action
Accompanied by punctual rhythms
Both catering to my soul
But which do I prefer
Does music lift me up
As I strive to catch the melody
Or is my imagination stretched
By snippets of conversations
Then it occurs to me
I’m not alone
And more problems exist
Here collectively
Than in my single life
My life ticks backwards
While glancing over my shoulder
And thinking I should
Face up to things
I sit and wax lyrical
Into a vinyl cylinder
An ode to joy
With an eastern allure.
Some cultures attract
Others threaten
Drawing pretty lines
In defecation brown
Global homunculi
Featuring sensitive spots
And a soft underbelly.
I reject the arguments
In favour of backtracking
Knowing old times
Are not what we want
Yet cleanliness calls.
