Loving Flow Poem by Nina Hall

And of what black barbs was this old flow
Of oil which constance with nothing to show
But reacting in a downward spiral vein
Direct to dull and stop a happy heart flame

An experiment into the falls of man
The slaughter of the fox that ran
To step aside the circle trip wired
Unaltered but for deepened and tired

The sickness still abiding below
And of what black barbs what this strange flow
Human construction of machine in mind
Running on rules of deletion and time

But no longer worthy as empty are both
Devoid of a self and baron of growth
Of love and forgiveness or truths solid friend
But hacking as only a means to an end

And double vision of bullets array
Defenders hindrance of a real display
Only to know that theres final to come
A must of an ego and my smoking gun

The victory madness and merciful blow
And of what black barbs was this cruel flow
To pity the thinness, to cry at its gears
To watch for the fumbling of actual tears

Try to remember, was here ever a time?
Where once was an artist white free of a crime?
Then screw up the memory auburn with conviction
The picture of part fact and part my own fiction

The ticking clock for irrelevant show
And of what black barbs was this old flow
Bemused and engrossed as plainly designed
I tried to map out the road to the kind

With hidden dark forests, no cities or cars
Ans no indication of what here is ours
No one to blame but the myth of the few
Only the stench of the ugliest blue

Condensed and thick this reality rich
Rages a storm on my chemical switch
Bravery has no reason or rest
In my looping goalless test

So now its time to slip back to my low
And of what black barbs was this loving flow?