Tropism (Petit Rentier)

Catch falling shadows
Dark corner of your smile
Held down to the floor
Giants surely surround us

Wake up our commander
I believe his ship is gone
Life fades this scene
Roll our dramatis personæ

Poorly defined plot
Played out in lightning flashes of man’s constant indecision
Often just well timed effects
It is always how you play it
Startled by crashing sounds
Damaged pots and pans

Clumsy servant I am

This banner above that cross you hang reads “Life’s Sweet Redemption”
Nail bound, save the body to sacrifice
Kissing nightshade death
Dreaming, your angel weeps

My indulgences are mostly personal
They whisper to me in sleep
So do yours, you call them insanity
In comfort, voices are drowned out in daily distraction

I stand before myself
Reflecting off the glaze in your eye
Did you like what I see?
Replenished doubt
I do mostly worry for you…and me


Ghost walk in the next room
Haunted mornings without you
This bed holds me hostage
My will holds my fears

Someone’s kicking the vending machine down the hall
It is filled with dentures and replacement kidney stones
They must be out of change
There is never enough to go around

Change that is

Do you have any candy to share this Thursday?
Everyone does sometimes find time for candy
I won’t tell
It will be our sin
It will be draped in velvet burning day light and hidden on the concrete slab behind enchanted talking shrubbery

Or maybe I will just watch

Harassment is an admission of authority
We all want to be famous some days
Thursday is a terrible day for fame
Just ask the famous

Feeling sympathy is a contact sport
Not to judge common men for self pity
Even Christ, with his promised redemption did it
Impatience was his best quality
Idle chatter is for idiots
Most poetry is full of idle chatter


Intelligence is judged through applied results
Standardized test are biased to deities and rich kids
The entitled are the consecrated of our generation
Sacred is an overused adjective
Mainly filed on carved stone and plastic statues
Fluffy babies, wooden boys, and innocent cows have lost relevance
Mowed down by Reality TV and Fat Faced Partisan News Casters
Never ask many questions of lost children or angry adults

I hate digressing into politics

Murdered hallowed principle
Blamed for transgressions of guilty dead
Divinity wastes whiskey drenched nights searching for holy mothers and proselytes
Soldier’s lullaby

We would play house but the bank wants their mortgage back
They are knocking at your back door
They are standing on your spine
Their heels are etched with stamps of government approval and the broken teeth of your American dream

Would you lie for me?

Tropism (Petit Rentier)


Morristown, United States

  • Artist

Artist's Description

And we all cannot wait to escape our Eden

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