Unasked

Now, let’s hear it
What does silence say?
How do phantoms pass the day?
How much does a dream weigh
After doubt has chased it away?
What random tangent shall we entertain?
These are the pressing questions
Unasked in their very expression

What a heavy day in the laboratory
We’ve set off in uncharted territory
Let’s see if we can levitate gravity
Or sort static from synchronicity
Not nearly as noble as dynamite
And darker than stars devouring their own light
Bellowing every now and then
Fire-demons of spite
Scorching the source of all we ignite

Here we’ve visited vistas
Of unintelligible synesthesia
Here Mnemosyne wrestles perpetually
With her evil twin Amnesia

Here have we overflown lands
Overgrown by phony panaceas
Scaling loops of circular stairs
And plunging neckline nadirs of despair
As we distilled volatile emotions
Into smokey lyrical potions

Ideas getting carried away with themselves
Born to greatness
But bound to bookshelves
It’s all very quick
And terribly clever
But where shall we find the wizard healer
Who knows how to cure the broken lover?

Let us consider the cost of consideration
The drag of deliberation
As we design experiments
Destined to end in conflagration
And attempt to invent acrobatic instruments
Intent on self-examination
Without bending them
And sending them
Into maddened luminous hyperspheres
Blinded by the navel’s
Glorious glare
These are the pressing questions
Unasked in their very expression

Is there a real difference
Between forgery and art?
Does it matter
If the buyer can’t tell them apart?
Is the culture past the date of expiration
Spoiled with murky curdled traditions
Devoid of any credible claim
To serving any reasonable aim
Or can one cull
A strain of redemption
Immune to the pangs of conception
Say, is there any sense assigning blame
When cure and poison are exactly the same?

What are gods made in the image of?
Is time truly a Titan
Which swallows its children
All the while protesting love?
Thundering conflicting commands
From lofty mountaintops above
As the faithful cut off their own hands
Fearful to trust their own plans
These are the pressing questions
Unasked in their very expression

How does one plot out
The origin of originality?
What came before eternity?
When did these broken notions of sin
Get twisted and mixed in
With evoking inner divinity?
How do we swallow our own tales
Taken to compass the cosmic scale?

Will ideals keep caving to expediency?
What would it even mean
To be completely free?
Where’s the hope for anarchy
When some warlord half-cocked big shot
Marauding with an unopposed army
Directly erects another dynasty?
After all, if the Empire were to fall
How many of us would survive at all?
These are the pressing questions
Unasked in their very expression

Usual suspects rounded up and released
All the props of philosophers and priests
Yet the mystery of ontology remains unsolved
And now the lab has utterly dissolved
Who cares who did it
We want to know why
Even if we only find plausible lies
All the mind’s cages buckled and bent
No one knows where the control group went
Medals all melted down again
Has the entire universe fallen in
Collapsing all which might have been?
These are the pressing questions
Unasked in their very expression

November 8, 2016. Category: airlift, Word Jazz.

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