Author Information
Pennycane
Folder:
Early Writings Life is but a dream
It's a sentimental wishing well
Stones blurred, the paint is on my eyes
Life becomes as useless as a dream
Just a mere foretelling, a pictoral sentence
A bolt of blinking
A plotless thinking
Life is a hungry hungry hippo
A word of reality?
Whose reality?
I am a clown of eccentric pointing-fingers
A single blind action to the stain of grain
Time is never in the song
You're not on my time
You're not on your time
You are never late.
You are never early.
There is never time.
Time is only age.
You're old, I'm new
I'm fake, you're true
True to your unborn cage
Time is the confinement of age
Plastic heads, greet plastic beds
Plastic feet lead plastic kids.
Plastic children form plastic heads
Then everyone is dead.
There is no truth to age
Only heads to fade
The company you keep is the company you wear
The burdens that you seek are the burdens that you bear
Why have I kept my looking, I am already there.
I want to be there when the earth stops spinning.
