For those who see only lack of meaning

Of the three poems submitted this was the one i thought the best. My affection could be because the poem has some mock lisp (a programming language) in it, so what is there not to like.

---

The Argument
What we cannot speak of we must pass over in silence.
     Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus.

I
Breathless grunts and bedspringed groans of desire.
Infant babble drool crafting the alien.
Technically sweet perversions of precision.
Alive ghetto nuance of generations.
Tangled reused active spaghetti goto.
Mad man made jumbles of mad made up playstations.
Vast creole sprawling pidgin archipelago.
Tearshaped confusion of demented fire.

II
Argot languages cant jargon misery,
These are a few of my favourite things.

III
NOT
Mocking bitch of a god spelled backwards is Dog.


(defun Envoi
       (if (> love hate)
           (Non dulce et non decorum est)
           (GENESIS 11:6))
)

The Dead Bee

Waiting for the bus and noticed a dead bee in a spiders web.

---

A dead bee in an empty web - 
(Weaving as he goes) Appears at first glance
To be a magical levitating against all 
Rational thought sort of thing.

A closer look - I can see the thin
Strands invisible in the shadows 
Holding the dead hollow creature. 
(this is how it ends?)

A fine architecture of wealthy lies
The structure of our modern endeavour

And she was but a child atop the crow's nest
- The exulted call of the carrion eaters! - 

Suspended in a web above Gaia's child
 
   ((Meandering Mother) (Incest Lover)
   (Murderer of the Piercing Serpent)
   (Water Dragon of Chaos) (Demon of Envy))

A sprig of myrtle - And scattered salt
In her hair - and the dead hovering bee
At the bus stop - 

   And as she fell (with a whimper)
   She thought of far away green 
   She thought of her love.

Butterflies

I fell asleep on the grass in the afternoon - the hot sun on my skin. And then i woke up...

---

As he slept
He felt a fluttering
Of butterflies.

Butterfiers

Summer wind burns wide the wood lands
Lightning fire flames oily tops of trees
Racing all before - desolate gales heated
Embers ballon tumble the heavens - whirling flames
Cyclones of orange, of red, of blue, of yellow
Blinding smoke bursts alight
Flame jet jutting from trees
Shadowing the sun - darkening the earth

Crowning curtains of orange flame rushing skywards
Dancing from tree top to tree top clouds of flame
Parched black blankets of ground - death gives life
The heat opens the hard casings and the seeds fall
Times are a burn makes what it needs and rain falls

(equal death life)
> true