passion plays,walk this way,do not pass go,but don’t you know
we got it wrong.
The long view,short term payments overdue and none of it was meant for you,the car crash,whiplash,no cash bank dash, was in the plan and ban the bomb was just a dream,
beam me up.
Star trek took my life away,it felt so real but here’s the deal that came,we took a life apart and frame by frame we pictured it in antilogs,sour breath dogs that made us heave and leaving all of that aside we still got in and took the ride into the night shock,dead lock and when the cock crowed thrice and the dice were thrown and the dethroned king put a ring on the hand of misery,star trek was still there for me,and it was still the fantasy of sailing in the sea of comets,stars,and floating points which mathematicians would have us know that after this there is nowhere else
and I scream integers
for no other reason than it sounds good but it would in the vacuums of empty columns,where Columbus never imagined a sea beyond any ocean he sailed and the Southern lights flailed against the majesty of what he could not see.
This is what we and by we, I generally mean me has got on his mind at twenty past three when the day has already bled its unkindness on me and my head,by waking me from a sleep,which is like waking the dead and in the waking I read the signs laid out in letters fourteen inches high being scrolled slowly across my inner eye and the sky looks black,I’d go back to sleep but the crowing of the cock keeps me awake.
I ache for a minute where the seconds are in it for me
I cry for that moment, when I cry out and see what the future holds and what’s in it for me,but it’s three twenty five and more dead than alive
with a price on the life that I’ve led,
I get back into bed,to be sped off again in a no loss no gain kind of autopsy blue.
There is nothing to do with the process of me being no less than no more I could be,let
Columbus sail his sea and I’ll sail along mine in time we are one,
or we are no one.
I just can’t decide if Star trek is the ride that I want
©John Smallshaw all rights reserved