Breathe Poem by Suburban Lovechild

It wills faceless principles
For the appeasement of whom
We wish sometimes we didn't know
The shallow deluge reaps
Happy means, thorns
And righteousness bundled
Snug in a wrap
Ready to serve beyond
Apprehension and reinvention
The ornery masses
I in mid-pack alignment, soothed
They are now allowed to scorn
Who they choose
Without retribution
Accounted for or scored upon
This day will stand
Among them
Among them all
For the moments share potential
And the empty destinies
We plan for the trip ahead
Now recline to the music
Of the day's splendor
The tingling millisomethings
Eager to mule for the chance
At the big time
Toil mule toil
Knowing the sinister mendings
Of your glorified unintentions
Will glow unabashedly
For all to rise up in furor
The care cannot persist
For lords and laws
Always see things
In unscrupulous ways
Those darned nether-enders
Of fictitious regard towards
Descendants not their own
Don't they know the finale
Brings oral brilliance
To trump the future
And all muddying the nascent present
In the angelic reserve
In the ideal that circumstances
Imagined and post-facto
Will tarry all
To relinquish
Time enough to breathe.

(10/26/07, Campton Place Hotel bar, Union Square, San Francisco, CA)