Tuesday, February 15, 2011


Incoherent jumbles of ideas pass through my brain like a hoard of screaming children
Scrambling for position and clawing like wild monkeys.
And when at last the first is first
And those who first got chosen last
will pass into the infinite past,
and the rest will slip away,
sparks will spring forth,
The elements composite.
Labor on in patient waiting.
 I had a cigarette in the garden,
It burned like a thermal-nuclear reaction,
And I met strangers who carried on just fine
Despite the desolate nature of their privlaged lives
so in between we live as beasts,
ignorant of our fate,
gazing into the void.
-Dr. Molotov 

1 comment:

  1. Interesting name, Dr. Molotov. Heh some good metaphors in here.