Stream-of-Consciousness Poetry: Volume II

Keeping the mind accessible
Rolling up a hill
Shouting at some foreigners
Breaking seagull's will

Underneath a hydrant
Evil lurks indeed
Out of time, he bellowed
Sow the fruitless seed.

I don't have the answers
I barely have a clue
But never have I witnessed this
A man with no tattoos.

When does time run out for us?
How will it transpire?
Which one has the truth, you ask.
Our plight seems to be dire.

Yesterday, it all made sense
Today it's just chaos
Tomorrow we'll be dead for sure
So don't forget to floss.

Octopodae is triumphant o'er
Eel and lobsterkind
Wherefore flesh must rot away
'Tis only in the mind.

Ask me for insanity
Surely it shall be delivered
Ask me for intelligence
My daisies out back withered.

From the midst of shallowness
The answer to my cries:
It costs only thirty more cents
To make that super-sized.

I'd like to know what makes me tick.
And how I breathe at night.
But since the break of dawn is nigh,
I wonder why you'd be right.

Incorrectitude is that
Which makes this planet spin
There's so much here we've got excess
But does that mean we win?

I'm sure there's other ways to go
About securing fame
But whoring to the government
Shall surely teach the world my name.

I've run out of things to say
But still I ramble on
I'm sure I'll be remembered well
Once my corpse is gone.

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