This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO


The great hand of time
Moves `round rumbling in the blue,
Vast whips of saturated choice
Lash the impertinent sails
and the howling of dissenters
Can be heard `neath the chiding oars
Speeding the hour
upon the mottled shores
as the oily albatross glides the world
Commandeering the air and ground
In its slippery waddle
and squawk of certain truth.

Our albatross; man’s intent
sullying the world
in swift hegemony
Leaving time with all the
wasters, the lethargic,
and the broken masses bellyaching `round the hours
Hunched and
offended in their stale air.
The mournful scuff of muffled bitterness
onfiscates the heavens and the oil baron
Plunges the earth, hijacking forest and plain
and ocean in his dastardly trample and screech
Toward certain

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