Parable parabellum

As he listens to the wind through the trees
He waits for his disease
Despising the tries and the lies
Most of all the compromise
There in lies the crux
A product of consumption
Like a suit without a tux
While these flabbergasted ducks
Get more bread
Im on a different circuit he said.
Trigger, pull, bang, dead.


And with this thought in his head he sits
Shaking, he’s at the end of his wits
His gun to his head, it feels so cold
Oh how he wishes he could fold

But the trigger, he does not dare pull
He can’t handle his life being null
So he sits there and begins to cry
As the world keeps passing him by

He knows one day he’s going to fall
Why should how he does matter at all?
“You are a coward,” he tells himself
“You won’t even dare kill yourself”

But in that phrase he knows well the lie
As he stares right up to the black sky
He finally puts the gun away
He’s not going to die today.


Nice :slight_smile:
I’m playing with some double meanings.
In that the death of one ego feels suicidal to that ego.

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(couldn’t resist) :wink:

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I shall peep laterz when i can haz intertubes

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Flat fixed figures standing
Still madly turning boustrophedon
Spinning silent stories
From stone mouths

Of a man
Exactly imperfect
A blind composer’s drunken night’s work
Moving mechanically
Like clockwork

Beneath trees
Long ladders to the sky
Waving uncountable green-hued hands
Supplicating softly
To the stars

Flying free
Outside unseeing eyes
His animal heart surveys the land
Glimpsing padding panthers
Raising hairs

Then… a song?
Calling him from afar
Strumming DNA’s swan-neck spiral
One flaming tiger stripe
Shows a way

[Ok, who’s doing Part 4? ^^]