A Separation

Cankered past, covered walls

of time’s illusion and eluded


Begone and token great

rush of the morning toxin

Sought in no effort for the

curse of a mental block lacks

No Scamming memory or thought but

new colloquial debates of racist undertones

and the aging willfully ignorant.

Chronic distinctions, and hypnosis,

a daily ritual for some and others a nuisance.

Are these thus here upon due luck

or punishment?

Is and yes,

This morning barring of the mournful nights

askewed for  the brotherly instinct and told

to odes and ballads.

The end of meter,

and the liberation of form,

those who live in their anachronisms

burden all.

Loud vocals from our

old friend, loud chances

and memories again.

Ah, but what’s this?

A new stanza?

A new measure?

Yes, a drop,

a separation in electronic


and modern art.

Tribal rhythms return

Drive and gage the

measure where we need

no measure.

Emotion is not lost,

Fun is not dead to over thought and movie memorabilia living amongst us.

Another separation,

It keeps the rhythm,

the fun.

Ah, each standing passage

and measure

was a mistranslation,

A memory, and no longer


This word,

This moment, is the only truth.

But soon, not so,

nor never again.

Oct 1-5, 2014

Published by James J Jackson

I'm a poet from California.

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