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The Aphorist
Protomartyr
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We're all mowing esoteric patterns in the grass
A fast and fading echo of ancient Nazca man
Who carved his lines upon the desert floor
In hopes to catch the eye of some forgotten god
To delight a passing thunderbird
Or win patronage of a sky-jaguar knit of stars
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Shouted slogans of leapers give me megrims
Why didn't I smash the copier when I was through?
Self-doubt is a stalking fiend
Narcissism is a killer
That and no healthcare
Dumb aphorist embrace obscurants
And write in ogham for your final lines
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There's the failed lawyer haunting teen-punk shows
He'll explain his top five for '09 and what to eat
But, if you ever saw his bald-skull head
You'd be certain he's been dead for weeks
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And that's the story of the happy thief who provided content
To that ceaseless chill-out stream
His body will be found soaked in luminol aftershave
Room of knives, Lebanon Flying J
I didn't know him very well
But I think of him whenever my mind drifts
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