The Aphorist

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

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

There’s the failed lawyer haunting teen-punk shows
He’ll explain his top 5 for 09 and what to eat
But, if you ever saw his bald-skull head
You’d be certain he’d been dead for weeks

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