somewhere there's a door i've found
to a room hidden deep underground
beneath the bitter snarls of twisted roots,
beneath the shuffling, stomping, trampling boots
of our schizophrenic society.
devoid of this shrill cacophony,
past ads and pills and sports and news,
bathed in the somber, muted hues
of all that's passed and yet to come
is an elegant equation whose final sum
remains unchanged despite all schemes and ploys,
all desperate fears and frantic joys.
some mistake the quiet of this darkened room
for oblivion, for senseless gloom
and flee, as though they could escape;
yet whatever the form, whatever shape
inevitability assumes in the guise of day
the peaceful solitude of slow decay
is ever patient and calls life's every bluff -
we all visit her bedroom soon enough.
to a room hidden deep underground
beneath the bitter snarls of twisted roots,
beneath the shuffling, stomping, trampling boots
of our schizophrenic society.
devoid of this shrill cacophony,
past ads and pills and sports and news,
bathed in the somber, muted hues
of all that's passed and yet to come
is an elegant equation whose final sum
remains unchanged despite all schemes and ploys,
all desperate fears and frantic joys.
some mistake the quiet of this darkened room
for oblivion, for senseless gloom
and flee, as though they could escape;
yet whatever the form, whatever shape
inevitability assumes in the guise of day
the peaceful solitude of slow decay
is ever patient and calls life's every bluff -
we all visit her bedroom soon enough.
| photo taken deep in the shattered bowels of a massive stable/carraige house |
below
| all photos and unattributed text copyright © 2005-2007 by abandonedamerica.org and may not be used or reproduced without prior written consent. all rights reserved. |
